


Even Glaciers Thaw

by Lostlegacyuniverse



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amorphous void between the Wrath and Cata timelines, Blood and Violence, Canon has been slow roasted at 225 and carved for juicy bits, Changing the POV like I change socks, Dungeons and Dragons Party Vibes, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lore Alterations, Other lore character mentions, cursing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28280064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostlegacyuniverse/pseuds/Lostlegacyuniverse
Summary: When a skilled elven mercenary for hire receives a request for help from an old friend, who is she to turn him down? It's not long however, before she realizes just how serious this particular request ends up being. Although, if she gets to make a few new friends out of it, who is she to complain? Not all jobs turn out a payment of coin, and she'll be damned if she doesn't get her due.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5





	1. Curious Encounters

This inn was like any other in Dun Morogh. Loud boisterous laughing, the clinking of chipped stone mugs, and an undertone of drunken danger. Mostly from the surly dwarves that corralled themselves around the aged, wooden ale barrels. They would pound those meaty lumps that they called hands on their tables, demanding more food and drink. Though mainly more drink.  
They were there now, giving each other guff, chugging down mead, and harassing any of the maids that were foolish enough to walk nearby.

She’d been watching since she arrived, observing that with each mug they drained, they lost a little more common sense. Not that dwarves had much common sense to begin with. Grubby little halflings. They burrowed around in the earth and rock, digging out the very roots of the mountains. It twisted her stomach to think about it.

She lifted her own mug to her lips and drank, feeling the cool amber liquid wash down her parched throat. Others had told her that some of the finest ales in the world tasted like the warmth of the sun, or were as sweet and smooth as honey.

This drink was neither. It was fresh to be sure, but it tasted bitter and sharp, making her eyes narrow and water slightly. She missed the mulled berry wines of Darnassus and their superior refined smell and taste. 

Somewhere in her mind she imagined relaxing in her old home, resting against a smooth birch table, a glass of Moonberry Vintage dangling from in between her violet fingers.

She shook her head, irritated with herself. She was getting the cravings again, but she forcefully told herself she would never go back. Still half-lost in her memories, she pushed back the silvery, thin strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes and lazily settled her gaze on the dwarves again.

\----

The next few hours crawled by with an unusual slowness, and she could feel her impatience beginning to swell. She stretched for a moment, her purple open sleeves sliding down to her elbows, as she let out a yawn. She was starting to get bored. Resting her chin on her hand, she idly scanned the room, her slightly luminous pale eyes lingering briefly on a few individuals. 

The first person that she spotted was a gruff looking man with a large scar on his right cheek, and a curved blade made of gloomy looking steel strapped to his waist. He seemed to be enjoying a friendly conversation with a small mixed group of dwarves and gnomes cluttered around one of the tables.

Then she noticed another man who was much slimmer than his nearby companions. He wore the clothes of some sort of merchant, and had a pair of delicate glasses resting on the bridge of his sharp, beak-like nose. Several small leather bags were securely tied to his belt. He was scribbling out some words on a document, while occasionally checking a nearby tiny hourglass filled with sand.

The last interesting person of note was huddled in one of the isolated corners of the inn, arms out of sight underneath the heavy dark cloth it was swathed in. Whether it was a man or a woman, she could not tell. Most of their features were well hidden.

The silhouette stirred slightly, as if they could feel themselves being watched.

A small smile twitched across her lips, pleased at the thought that her presence was intimidating, even in a relaxed state, before taking another sip from her drink.

Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty. Then fourty. Eventually she picked up her mug, glared into the dark swirling depths of her drink, and frowned. Her friend definitely should have been here by now.

Part of her was worried. What if something had happened to him on the way here? The other half of her shrugged off the thought. He could take care of himself. After all, what kind of paladin would he be if he couldn’t handle a few problems on his own? But then again, he was also alone. If something happened to him, something he couldn’t handle...

Just as these thoughts were beginning to stew and multiply in her mind, a loud curse, swiftly followed by a chunky _‘thwack’_ , split the -relatively still- tavern atmosphere. The sound was jarring and startled her out of her reverie. Before she could begin to gather her thoughts, the air quickly became saturated with various savage shouts and hollers. A tight sigh slipped out of her mouth, her eyes rolling in irritation.

_The dwarves._

She knew it at once. The rowdiest little gang reveling there was now tangled up in a full blown tavern brawl. If there was one thing dwarves knew how to do -other than drink, of course- it was fight. 

The other patrons had to skitter back and away to avoid being struck by any stray jabs. Their blows were fierce, and each heavy drunken punch that landed, caused the increasingly hot air of the inn to reverberate.

She clamped her hands tightly over her ears and cursed her sensitive hearing.

For what seemed like an eternity, the brawl raged freely. Then, the man with the wide scar on his cheek, along with a red headed burly looking dwarf with a large beard, rushed in and began hurling the angry combatants apart. 

If her ears weren’t in so much pain, she would have laughed. The sight of such tiny men being thrown across the floor like misbehaving children was very amusing. A moment to treasure for certain.

“That’s enough outta’ all of ya! Get out o' my inn afore’ I start crackin’ skulls!” The large dwarf shouted, his face and cheeks red as wine. His limbs were trembling with rage, and it was very obvious he was doing his best to maintain any form of composure. 

Some of the addled dwarves stood up dizzily, their heads spinning from a mixture of alcohol and adrenaline. One of the others, who was wearing a patterned vest and, who visually appeared less sloshed than his companions, marched up to the red bearded dwarf and snarled back.

“Last time I checked, this was a dwarven inn! Ya have no right ta’ throw me and me mates out into the cold!”

The larger dwarf appeared to puff up even more than he already was.

“Last time I checked, I was the keeper o’ this tavern and if I want ya out, then yer going ta' leave! Whether I have ta’ throw ya out on yer arse, or not!”

The vested dwarf growled and balled up his fists, as the rest of the drunken dwarves began to rally together, their faces spoiling for another fight.

The scarred man and the innkeeper stubbornly stood their ground, and somewhere in the crowd came the steely scrape of blades being pulled from their sheathes. 

She carefully reached off to the left, blindly grabbing for her curled longbow, her eyes never leaving the two opposing factions. She could feel her marksmen instincts kicking in as she quickly identified the most threatening looking people in the room. 

The innkeeper leaned forward slightly, staring straight into the furious eyes of his opponent.

“I’m warnin’ ya, one last time. Get out o’ my inn.” 

Before their ‘disagreement’ could go any farther, the cloaked figure in the corner shifted rapidly, and reached out with a heavily armored gauntlet.

Their hand grasped the stone mug sitting in front of them, lifted it into the air, and then slammed it down onto the table with such force that a long crack split the polished granite side of the tankard, sending the dark drink inside sloshing out in a violent spray. She flinched suddenly at the sound, as did everyone else in the room. 

The clang was abrupt and startling. The aggravating dwarves snapped their heads towards the direction of the disturbance, mouths carved into angry snarls, but in that instant, she saw them change. 

Their lips and skin became pale, as if all of the blood had suddenly drained away from their flesh, and their pupils shrank in fear. The lead dwarf swiftly turned his head back to the innkeeper, and with sudden submission, bowed his head slightly and nodded quickly.

“Aye, aye we’ll go. We’ll leave, ain’t that right lads?” His voice was strong, but she could detect that he spoke with a sudden stutter. The rest of his gang was quick to agree -all of them muttering various words at once- and in one motion, they briskly made for the door and vanished out into the night. 

The innkeeper let out a heavy sigh of relief, while the rest of the disturbed patrons visibly and audibly relaxed. After a moment of straightening his clothes, the burly dwarf strode over to the mysterious figure’s table and took their mug. Presumably to replace it with one that was not absolutely ruined.

The figure turned slightly and murmured something -too faint for even her sharp ears to have heard- and reached out with another metal clad hand. She saw the golden glimmer of coin, before it vanished into the meaty paws of the innkeeper. 

The dwarf nodded and slipped the currency into a small bronze chest at his waist. Afterwards, he turned and held out his arms in welcome to the other guests, heartily asking if he could get anyone food or drink. The rest of the inn soon settled back into a casual jovial mood, laughter ringing out from the clustered individuals, as the skirmish was quickly forgotten.

Normally the sight of coin, and where it could be located, would have piqued her immediate interest. But what she was currently intent on, was the fact that the figure’s gauntlet had not been made of metal at all, but was actually exposed darkened flesh, with fingers tipped in long raven colored claws.

\----

Just when she had begun to worry if her friend would ever show, the tavern door swung open on smooth brass hinges, and a pair of young, handsome men strode happily in. 

One was obviously older than the other, due to his height and aged color in his hair, but they could not have been more than twenty years apart in age. Both wore heavy traveling cloaks over a set of polished silver armor, one more elegant than the other, most likely due to rank. The younger man had a large gleaming war hammer strapped to his back, while the older human sported a modest bastard sword on one hip, and had a thick tome covered in holy looking runes attached to his belt. A heater shield peeked out from over his shoulder.

Her eyes lit up in excitement. Not only was he unharmed, which was a relief, but it also meant that she could finally get out of this blasted inn and at last go somewhere interesting! His companion was certainly new to her, but if he’d been brought along, then she at least knew him to be an ally. 

The two men scanned the multi-chambered room for a moment, before approaching and greeting the innkeeper.

“Good evening! What can I get fer’ ya today?” The red headed dwarf sported a wide warm grin, completely different from the highly defensive frown he had worn earlier.

“Nothing at the moment, thank you. We’re looking for a friend of ours, an elven woman with silver hair.” The taller man had a voice that was deep and as rich as oakwood. The dwarf nodded and jerked his chin in her direction.

“Thank you.”

“You’d best hurry. It’s not polite ta’ keep a lady waitin’.”

The two men approached her table and sat down at its empty seats. The taller, older man had short brown hair with a few streaks of grey, and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were a dark green, which reminded her fondly of the leafy trees of Darnassus. The younger man had medium length bouncy blonde hair, and had bright brown eyes, like acorns. 

She splayed her left hand out in front of her, feigning anger and flaring her nose a bit to help her play up the part.

“I can’t _believe_ how long you kept me waiting here! I _do_ have other things I could have been doing, you know!” She scoffed, tossing her long hair in mock irritation. 

The taller man laughed and put his right hand on the other man’s shoulder, giving him a hard, but friendly, shake.

“I couldn’t help it. Phillip here slowed me down. He was absolutely insistent on coming along, and quite frankly, the boy isn’t the fastest rider.”

“Would you rather that I stayed behind? Some teacher you are, Kirston, leaving your apprentice to go off on some adventure!” Phillip growled back with a smile. The two chuckled and she couldn’t help but allow herself to grin, enjoying their desperately missed company.

“I’m being rather rude aren’t I? Phillip, this is Yuri, she’s an old friend of mine.” He gestured to the young paladin to hold out his hand. 

“Yuirari.“ She corrected as she did the same, and the two shook hands in greeting. Her hand seemed so small compared to his plated fist.

“You never told me you were friends with an elf.” Phillip eyed his teacher humorously. Kirston shrugged, and Yuirari narrowed her eyes and snickered lightly, not trying to hide her gesture behind a hand.

“Some teacher you are.” She teased, reaching out to poke him in the arm. Phillip chuckled a moment, before looking nonchalauntly around the inn. He leaned in to the center of the table, as if telling a secret, and whispered.

“Why here?”

“Because it was the first place to come to mind.” Kirston concluded casually, with a relaxed wave of his hand.

“But _why_ here?”

“Must you question everything?”

“I wouldn’t be a good student if I didn’t, now would I?” Phillip ribbed back.

“Gentlemen, I hate to interrupt this lovely banter, but I really think we should get going. After all, this isn’t exactly the place to talk about private matters.” Yuirari butted in impatiently. 

In reality, it was a decent place to talk, as most inns generally were. Given how noisy they could be, no one would be able to easily snoop on their conversations without getting caught, especially by her.

But the subject drawing them here must have been very important indeed, for Kirston to call upon her. That meant this was not something she was willing to risk having eavesdroppers listen in on. She was also tired of the racket, the confined space, the dwarves, and she was desperate to get out of it all as soon as possible. 

Phillip looked at her in surprise, a downcast sadness tinting his eyes and the corners of his mouth. It reminded her of a dejected puppy. He seemed hesitant for a moment, as if hoping that she might change her mind, before putting a gauntlet to his stomach.

“But, we haven’t even gotten a chance to eat. We’ve been riding for hours, and I really could go for a nice hot meal right now.” His eyes wandered to the other patrons, their plates topped high with glistening basted meats, and steaming breads. 

Kirston followed his gaze for a moment, the two paladins mirroring a longing for food. His eyes shifted to the more prominent figures in the building, then to the figure in the corner. His face changed, subtly, before he turned back to the elf, his expression frustratingly unreadable.

“I agree with Yuri. This really isn’t the place for this.”

Phillip started to protest, before his teacher gave him a gentle rebuke. Phillip sighed heavily as Kirston rose from his seat, patting his apprentice on the shoulder.

“Come on, let’s go. I’ll make it up to you later.” 

Phillip groaned in irritation and slowly stood up, arms crossed tightly across his chest. Yuirari gathered up her things, her coin pouch, her bags, and her quiver, before laying her bow over her shoulder, string across her chest.

“Sasha was probably missing me anyways. You boys go on ahead, I still have to pay for my drinks.” 

The two paladins nodded -one reluctantly- and headed out, while she pulled a few silver coins from her bag and handed them over to the innkeeper. The dwarf smiled and bowed slightly as he bid her farewell.

“Good evening ta’ ya, lass! Safe travels!” He called after her cheerfully.

Yuirari cast one last lingering glance towards that corner of the inn, where the dark silhouette still sat, a brand new polished stone mug resting on the table. 

\----

Yuirari shivered as she stepped outside. It was cold enough in Dun Morogh on a good day, but now with the rapidly approaching winter, the cold nipped obnoxiously at her skin, and the wind stole away her hard earned warmth. She instantly missed the temperature of the inn, and wanted to go back inside, but she wasn’t going to be the one to backpedal, not when leaving had been her idea. 

Kirston noticed her shivering, his own nose and ears already turning a soft pink.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got an extra blanket in our saddles that you can use.” 

Yuirari tossed her hair and smiled at the older paladin cheekily.

“Sure you won’t need that extra blanket yourself, old man?” She teased at him, her barb dull. Kirston rolled his eyes, seemingly unphased by her antics.

“You’re cold, just admit it.” He chuckled.

“Am not!” She stuck out her tongue, before running ahead to the stables set a short distance from the inn. The elf deftly leapt over the stable fence, like a deer, before pouncing on top of a horse sized mound of white and purple striped fur.

“Sasha! I’m back, my sweetie!” She cooed happily in a high voice.

The heap surged and twisted to reveal a great furry face holding two brilliant blue eyes, with two long fangs protruding from its mouth. Kirston was unfazed by the creature, having had seen it numerous times before, but Phillip stopped in his tracks, eyes widening in amazement.

“A great saber cat…” He almost seemed to whisper the words with reverence, though his face betrayed his sudden childlike excitement. Kirston grinned and put a hand on Phillip’s shoulder.

“The loyal companions and mounts of the night elves. Incredibly intelligent, dangerously fast, and an absolute wonder to watch in action.” Kirston informed him, holding a finger up into the air.

“Will he bite us?” Phillip queried, his voice still gentle with a mixture of concern and respect.

“No, _‘she’_ won’t.” Yuirari interrupted, loudly. “Sasha is a big softie at heart. She might even lick you if she likes you enough!”

“You mean if I’m tasty enough!” Phillip laughed nervously. He started towards the stable proper then stopped, and looked around the open building awkwardly.

“Ummm. Where are the horses?” 

Kirston glanced around the area with him, confusion coloring his face as his brows furrowed.

“That’s odd. We weren’t gone very long. Did you properly secure them like I showed you?”

“Yeah, those were some of my best knots!” Phillip puffed. “There’s no way they just got up and wandered away.” Phillip patted the wooden fence before adding on to his previous statement. “Think some bandits took them?” 

“Not likely.” Yuirari cut in. “Sasha here would have smelled them, and she would have had herself a little bit of fun if that were the case.” She gestured to the area around her. “And seeing as there’s no terrified, shoddily clothed men hiding around here, I don’t think that’s what happened.”

As the paladins began examining the area for any clues, Yuirari’s heightened hearing began to pick up a strange sound. It was a high pitched, fearful wailing, and it certainly did not sound human.

_The horses, more than likely._

She strained her ears, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. 

Phillip did a quick loop, before going back to the fence where the horses had been tied, and let out an annoyed grunt.

“How do a couple of armored horses just disappear?” He scoffed in frustration.

Kirston walked past him, and bent down to touch something in the dusty earth. After a moment he stood up, holding a pair of mangled horses’ bridles in his hands. The leather straps were stretched thin and torn.

“Like this.” He announced, holding up his find so the others could see. “Something scared them. Scared them so badly they broke their reins trying to get away.” 

“That definitely matches the sound that I’m hearing. I can hear your horses. They’re making quite the terrible racket.” Yuirari strode up to the two men, eyeing the destroyed riding gear. “It shouldn’t be too hard to find them again, just give me a moment to saddle Sasha and we can go retrieve them.”

“They’re warhorses! What could they possibly be running away from?” Phillip demanded, turning to his teacher, exasperated.

As the older paladin opened his mouth to speak, Yuirari spotted movement behind the stables. Massive movement. 

She hissed aggressively at the two humans, and when they gave her a narrow eyed, questioning look, she jerked her chin up, indicating the area behind them. They turned around and went rigid.

A massive bone dragon was rising up from behind the stables. 

_One of the Frostbrood._

Frost wyrms, as they’re known, are dragons that either died naturally or were murdered, and through necromancy, were brought back to life under the command of the Lich King; the ruler of the Scourge. But the Lich King had been destroyed some time ago, so what was a monstrosity like this doing out here? Yuirari had a feeling she knew the answer, and that it probably had something to do with Kirston’s mysterious meeting.

But there was no time to think about any of that right now, the creature was coming closer. 

Its bones were a pale, frosted white and were slender. More so than you might have expected from a dragon its size. Blue light radiated from the eye sockets, as well as the rib cage, and the only flesh that still clung to its body were the shredded remains of its wing membrane. 

The frost wyrm let loose a low guttural growl. A warning.

Kirston rapidly looked the beast up and down, his eyes pausing for an instant as if spotting something, then began to slowly back away, signaling for Phillip to do the same. The apprentice’s eyes fixated suddenly on his teacher.

“What are you doing?” He whispered harshly

“Do not fight, Back away, now. Slowly.” Kirston snapped in a low voice.

“What are you talking about? It’s trapped between the inn and the stables, we have an advantage!”

“Boy! Do as I say!”

“You’re just going to leave it here? It’s part of the Scourge!” Phillip protested angrily, taking an aggressive stance.

“Phillip! Don‘t question me!” Kirston’s voice became short and scolding. The younger man hesitated, his bright brown eyes shifting between his teacher, the inn, and the looming undead threat. Then he suddenly ripped his war hammer free of its sheath on his back, and rushed forward shouting a battle cry.

“Damnit, Phillip, you’re going to-”

The frost wyrm bellowed and lunged forward, slamming its right claw into the attacking human, sending him flying off towards the road. Kirston barely had any time to dodge, narrowly scrambling off to the side towards his apprentice, while Sasha and her master nimbly swerved off to the left and out of harm's way.

Kirston bolted towards Phillip, who was already standing up before he could reach him. 

Phillip roared and shoved past the older paladin, who tried in vain to restrain him. 

Yuirari spun around, whipped out her bow, and pulled the string taut, a white feathered arrow nestled in between her fingertips, but was unsure of where to aim. The wyrm was all bones, and didn’t seem to have anything that she could identify as a weak point. How, exactly, was she supposed to do any damage to the damned thing? 

Sasha snarled nearby, her thick striped fur bristling and her large fangs and claws bared, but a sharp whistle from her master ensured she would not attack. She didn’t need her beloved companion getting trampled over such foolish recklessness.

Phillip charged forward again, swinging his hammer at the beast’s left forelimb, but it reared up on its hind legs, threatening to slam down, causing him to suddenly reconsider his attack. 

Kirston took the pause as an opening, and rushed in to grab the younger man’s arm with a grip like iron, yanking him back away from his quarry.

“I told you to stand down! Dammit, boy listen to me!” He shouted furiously. Phillip strained against the paladin’s grip.

“Let me go!” He argued back. 

As he was pulled away, Yuirari felt cold. Very cold. Like the heat was being sucked right out of her. Her fingers trembled and she could barely hold a grip on her weapons. 

A heavy scraping sound came from behind her, that of a sword being drawn. She spun around as fast as her rapidly numbing body would allow. 

A shrouded figure was moving towards them, fast. 

_The figure from the inn!_

__

As the figure approached, it lifted a deadly clawed hand, and tore away the heavy cloak veiling it, revealing a darkly furred creature heavily armored in gloaming blue and black plate. The shoulders bore long spikes, and the core of each plate was topped with a glowing blue gem. Their face was unarmored, and was that of a wolf, while the fur around their nose was scorched white with frost. They had the same piercing blue eyes as the frost wyrm. 

__

Yuirari felt her heart pause in fear for an instant.

__

_A worgen. A death knight._

__

The dark knight strode past her as if she didn’t exist, and lifted a savage looking sword towards the two paladins. It was long and split into two points at the tip. The steel was a dusky blue, and etched along the length of the blade were intensely glowing blue runes. 

__

He snarled venomously, revealing two sets of long fangs.

__

“Touch him, and I’ll ship your pieces back home to Stormwind in a crate.” His voice, distinctly Gilnean, reverberated as if duplicated upon itself; a side effect of necromantic magic. 

__

Phillip glared at the worgen in defiance, preparing to restart his attack on the -comparatively- smaller opponent, but Kirston was faster. He quickly hooked his arms under his apprentice’s, and dragged him backwards -and more importantly- out of the knight’s way.

__

“What, what are you-” Phillip protested, trying to fight the cold, trying to lift his hammer. 

__

“Be silent!” Kirston commanded sharply.

__

The death knight slowly stalked around them, menacing them at sword point until he had his back to the dragon. Without breaking eye contact, he put his free hand out behind him, and without hesitation the frost wyrm approached, and pressed the tip of its skull into his open palm; letting out a low vibrating rumble that rose and fell minutely in pitch. 

__

Yuirari wanted to cover her ears to deaden the piercing noise, but she could barely move. She could barely feel anything. 

__

A rapid dome of frost swirled outward from the worgen, caking the ground in a shimmering layer of ice. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the two humans quaking from the intensifying cold, their armor and cloaks glittering with rime, and noticed Sasha’s fur starting to harden over in a glazed shell.

__

A grim smile wormed itself across the worgen’s face.

__

Just when it seemed like he would freeze them all from the inside out, the cold began to relent, and she could feel warmth, blessed _warmth_ , spread through her veins. 

__

The death knight lowered his weapon until the tip dug softly into the now frozen earth.

__

“Unless we are in Northrend, and the Scourge are abundant, you would do well to cool your lust for battle. There are many of my brothers and sisters that might not be as kind as I am.” He rumbled condescendingly, lips twitching in faint amusement. 

__

The worgen swiftly turned on his heel and strode towards the neck of the dragon, who lowered its head to the ground in response, revealing a shadowy leather saddle strapped to its vertebrae. Effortlessly, he climbed into it, slipping his clawed feet into the dangling stirrups. There was a moment of silence, before he spoke again, emotionless.

__

“Your horses ran east. Next time, I suggest that you keep a better eye on them.”

__

Without another word or command from its rider, the beast opened its tattered wings and miraculously took flight. Despite the utterly shredded membrane, the beast defied all logic and fled from gravity's embrace. 

__

They watched as it soared up and over the trees, and vanished into the night. Its shape could briefly be seen blocking out the emerging patches of stars, before it was truly gone. 

__

When she could move enough, Yuirari raced to Sasha's side, and wrapped her arms around the great cat’s head, trying to comfort both her animal and herself. She had never been so cold, never felt so lifeless. She never wanted to feel like that again.

__

“Who… was that?” Phillip spoke slowly, hesitantly, as if he wasn’t comprehending what had just occurred. Kirston stirred at his words. He had been watching the knight's departure with great intensity.

__

“That, boy, was a death knight.” Kirston stated bluntly. “Former servants of the Lich King. You should know them from the books you’ve been supposedly reading.” 

__

Phillip stared at his teacher, hurt and shocked, and started to speak, but Kirston cut him off.

__

“How did you not notice the saddle on the drake's back? This could have been avoided if you had just listened to me! Next time, when I tell you to do something, boy, you do it!” He spat out, fuming, his emotions boiling over all at once.

__

Yuirari whipped around suddenly at his words, surprised. It was not often that Kirston got angry, but she could see the mixture of heavy fury and intense worry behind his dark green eyes. He was incensed and terrified for his apprentice. The kind of anger that only manifests for someone you care deeply about.

__

Phillip was speechless, and after several long tense moments, simply gave a subdued nod. He cast his gaze downward in shame, his ears burning a bright red.

__

“I- I’m sorry, I’ll make this up to you, I promise.” He murmured at the dirt.

__

Yuirari quietly approached and gently put a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

__

“Let this be a learning experience, Kirston, but don’t be too harsh on him.”

__

Kirston snorted in frustration, glaring at the younger paladin for a long moment, before turning away to stare into the forest, hands planted on his hips. He let out a heavy sigh, pushing his bangs back.

__

“This isn’t how I expected things to work out, but now it’s time for us to talk.”

__


	2. Revelations and Incitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirston explains himself, some feathers are ruffled, and Phillip learns a painful lesson.

Yuirari threw down her dark grey leather satchel, and began to remove Sasha’s modified saddle. 

It had been stitched together in such a way as to allow the entire structure to be easily folded into a tiny square. The material itself was made of dusky purple leather, bound together with shimmering golden thread, and accented with tiny crimson and violet leaves. 

Yuirari sighed as she began unfolding the object. It was heavily worn. There were patches of discoloration and age, stains from various food and drink, and half mended tears and rips. Parts of the leather had even begun to stretch and wear thin, particularly so on the long straps of the harness.

_I’ve got to buy a new one soon, before this one completely falls apart._

Her heart ached to see her beloved item in such disrepair, and she balked at the idea of replacing it, but it had to be done, before one or both of them got hurt because of it.

She subconsciously touched the small velvet pouch of coins that rested inside her bag. She had so little money left. Affording food and drink for the both of them was hard enough, but a new saddle as well? 

She rubbed her face and grumbled in irritation. There hadn’t been any contracts lately that were really worth her time, mostly just the occasional bandit or thug. And the rewards from those were hardly enough to supply the generous amounts of meat that Sasha consumed, let alone more practical items.

Yuirari’s attention turned in the direction of the snow colored saber cat who sat hunched near the dirt road, her bright blue eyes staring intently into the dark. 

Sasha’s ears were pricked forward, and twitched slightly to the tune of the scattered singing crickets. In the pale light of the moon above, her long silky fur looked as if it was made of thin strands of starlight. The stunning beauty of her closest friend and companion made her smile softly.

The elf’s gaze shifted to Phillip and Kirston. The two men were stationed next to a nearby fallen log, its bark dead and brittle from years of weathering. The faint light of the inn glowed from the tall trees behind them, giving them a strange, almost paper like appearance. 

The younger paladin was focused on his teacher, eyes dark and his posture humbled due to his earlier verbal lashing. He had apologized for his actions a dozen times over, but she agreed, Phillip still needed to learn restraint and thoughtfulness. 

Though, Yuirari couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for the boy. She would have reacted the same way, as anyone else would have, were they in his place. What Phillip had said before was true, the Scourge are monsters, abominations. But the situation still did not excuse Phillip’s earlier violation of his teacher’s orders. 

Phillip’s brown eyes flickered in her direction for an instant, as if he knew what she was thinking. Kirston followed his gaze, turning and beckoning to her.

“Come here for a moment, if you wouldn’t mind, Yuri.”

Yuirari stood up from the dusty earth, strode over to the two humans, and sat down gingerly on the log next to Phillip. The bark was sharp and angled, digging softly into her leather garments. She hoped they would not be here for very long, although the serious, concentrated look in Kirston’s eyes told her that it was likely that they would be. 

Kirston nodded absently at them, folded his hands behind his back, and began to speak.

“I was hoping to tell you this under much more favorable circumstances, but it can’t be avoided now. I am here on a mission, a very special one.” He paused for a moment, as if waiting for questions, then continued on. 

“A mission from King Wrynn himself. His Majesty is concerned about a great many things, and one of these subjects involves the lack of supervision over a particular group of individuals. Specifically, the death knights of Acherus.” 

Phillip opened his mouth for an instant as if to speak, but then quickly changed his mind and remained silent.

“These death knights were very helpful to the Alliance during its incursion into Northrend, _and_ in its fight against the armies of the Lich King, but shortly after Arthas’ fall, they retracted their forces from the Alliance, and have recently fallen silent. Their whereabouts, and most importantly, their loyalties, are unknown. His Majesty is concerned that they could pose a threat to the Alliance if they are not properly monitored.” 

Phillip’s face seemed to light up in a sudden excitement, and he straightened out his back, putting himself at attention.

Yuirari narrowed her silver eyes in a mixture of suspicion and curiosity, her own posture shifting into a more contemplative one.

_The death knights are loose and King Wrynn wants to control them, that much is obvious. But that didn’t exactly work out very well for their last master._

“So, my mission is to find said death knights, and bring them to Stormwind, where they will formally become part of the Alliance.” Kirston continued on before glancing at Phillip, brows raised expectantly. “Any questions?” 

Yuirari stayed silent, sensing the younger paladin’s positive shift in attitude.

“Yes, of course!“ Phillip jumped up off of the log, brown eyes beaming with enthusiasm. 

“A special mission from the King! You must be someone very powerful, or someone he trusts a lot! Having his ear, I didn’t know you had so much influence, Kirston!” He paused to catch his breath, before adding on cheekily. “That _is_ why he picked you, right?”

Yuirari rolled her eyes. Subtlety was really not this boy's strong suit.

Kirston shifted his stance, thinking for a moment before he responded.

“It was less that I had a direct interaction with him, and more that my higher ups handed the task to me. For several valid reasons.”

“Then the Argent Crusade is involved with this?”

“Not officially, no.”

Phillip’s eyes filled with confusion. He clenched and unclenched his hands, as if the deliberate movement would provide him with an answer.

“I...don't understand then. If the Crusade isn’t involved, not directly at least, then why would the King send you?”

Kirston shifted again, guilt flickering across his face. He shuffled his hands across his cloak, the thick fabric rippling softly -seemingly trying to stall for time- before sighing.

“Because, I am both a paladin of the Argent Crusade, as well as a member of SI:7.” He spoke formally, squarely meeting his apprentice’s eyes.

Phillip’s mouth creaked open in shock, his eyes blinking rapidly. A moment passed, then he chuckled, laughing loudly and putting a finger to his eye as if wiping away tears.

“Oh that’s a good one, Kirston! A paladin in SI:7! A rogue in plate armor! Oh, you almost had me there!” He chortled. “Ol’ bear Kirston sneaking around in the dark, stealing secrets, and breaking rules!” He covered his face with a gauntlet, his laughter verging on intentionally obnoxious.

“He’s serious.” Yuirari leaned back on her hands, her voice casual.

Phillip snapped back up out of his guffawing, his head turning to her.

“I’m sorry?”

Yuirari lazily twirled a strand of her silver hair around one of her fingers, and grinned, her small fangs prominent.

“Oh yeah, he’s a real rogue all right. Caused me all kinds of trouble, this one. You know, there was this one time, in Duskwood, where he got-” 

“Yuri, _please._ ” Kirston cut in, his voice strained with embarrassment.

The elf tittered teasingly, her silver eyes mischievous.

“Oh come on, that’s a great story. It’s one of my favorites actually.” She cooed.

The older paladin groaned, putting a hand to his head to rub his temples. Yuirari trilled louder, her laughter warbling, like birdsong. Phillip stared back and forth between the two, realization starting to dawn on him.

“You- you’re serious? You’re really SI:7? The sneaking, the secrets, that’s all you?” His voice was incredulous.

Kirston nodded solemnly.

“Well, then, why didn’t you tell me about this before? I feel like that’s kind of something that I should know about!” Phillip seemed hurt, his voice coming off harder than normal.

Kirston rubbed the back of his neck, stung. Yuirari flitted her gaze between the two of them, lips pursed.

“It’s a fact that I share with very few people, only those that I trust unconditionally. And those individuals I can count on one hand.” 

“So, she knew, but not _me_?” Phillip pointed towards Yuirari, before turning to the elf, his offended eyes expecting an answer.

“Yeah, I knew.” Yuirari sounded out evenly. She didn’t understand why the paladin was so upset. 

_Some secrets are meant to be kept, and some are shared. And above it all, he knows now, so why all of the drama?_

Phillip twisted back around to face his teacher, cheeks puffed, and his stance defiant.

“I’m your apprentice. I’m supposed to learn from you, follow your lead, your guidance, and you don’t _trust_ me?” He growled, disgruntled.

Kirston strode forward and planted both of his hands squarely on Phillip’s shoulders, giving him a small hardy shake.

“Of _course_ I do, Phillip. As I said earlier, I was planning on telling you all of this when the circumstances were better. This just isn’t something I can bring up around prying eyes and ears.” 

Several moments passed between the two of them; Kirston, steady as an oak, and Phillip, trembling like a leaf caught in a breeze.

Kirston leaned down a bit to meet Phillip’s downcast face.

“Hey. I’m not any different than the man you first met. And you’re not any bit lesser by not knowing before. You’re my apprentice, Phillip. You’re important to me, and I want you to remember that.” Kirston’s voice was gentle, and Phillip quietly sniffled a few times before looking back up at him, the skin around his eyes slightly red.

“Come on then, it’s cold out here. You should go back to the inn, where it’s warm.” Kirston gave him another shake, then a pat on the shoulder as he pulled away.

Phillip sat down back on the log, rubbing his eyes, while Yuirari tilted her head to passively observe him.

“Kirston..” Phillip paused for a moment, before continuing. “Kirston, that- that death knight. Did you know he was there when we walked in? Is that why you wanted us to leave?”

The older man nodded, his face thoughtful.

“I had heard reports that a death knight had been sighted in Dun Morogh, but I honestly hadn’t expected to find him in an out of the way tavern like this. Once I spotted that figure in the corner though, I had a gut feeling. Turns out that feeling was right.” 

Kirston gestured with a thumb towards the warmly glowing inn behind the trees. 

“I didn’t think it was a good idea to confront my suspicions in a public area like that. Death knights are unpredictable, and often violent.”

Phillip flinched at the reference to his earlier mistake, his ears burning. Then his head popped up in realization.

“Uh, Kirston, I don’t think you answered _why_ you were chosen for this mission. Sure, you’re SI:7, but, why not send a diplomat for something like this? Why _you_?” Phillip gestured with his hands toward Kirston’s form.

“I am accustomed to performing negotiations with dangerous and seedy individuals. Such talents are perfect for a mission like this.” Kirston started off, before turning away from the two of them and resting a hand on his sword, his green eyes hardening.

“My skill with a blade was also valued for more, specific, reasons. And as a paladin, it just made their choice of me more appealing. The Light is very effective against the undead, and death knights are no exception to that rule.” His voice was even, but his words were weighted.

Yuirari shifted her head back towards Kirston, lips parted in surprise.

“Do you mean to tell me that if this death knight won’t do what Wrynn wants, that you’re on orders to kill him?” She frowned slightly. That sounded like something the Horde might do, rather than the Alliance, but Wrynn _was_ known for his more front loaded leadership. 

Kisrton whipped around quickly to face her, his hands placating.

“No, no. It is just to ensure that I can defend myself against them if they become violent. Any regular diplomat wouldn’t have the same kind of protection.” 

He patted the tome hooked to his belt. “And my allegiance to the Crusade is a bonus. They’d like to have the Acherus knights monitored just the same as the Alliance. But as they prefer to stay out of direct political affairs, they’ve chosen to work through me as a kind of free agent. I’m not the only one out here either, there are others working towards the same end goal.”

Yuirari tossed her hair, scoffing softly. She was so tired of the constant power struggles.

_Just let the death knights be alone, and stop kicking the hornet’s nest! They’ve been through enough._

“If the Light is for your protection, then why didn’t you do anything about that worgen before? He was set to freeze us all into icy husks. Some kind of divine intervention there would have been nice, _Mr. Crusade._ ” Yuirari’s pale eyes narrowed judgingly at her friend, arms crossed. Sasha chuffed in the distance, turning to spy on them.

Kirston winced, trying to hide his reaction, but the elf noticed anyway.

“If the frost wyrm had not been there, I might have. But as it was, I did not want to antagonize him any further than Phillip already had.” He murmured pensively, cupping his chin with a hand. “And… I’ve never seen a death knight like him before. His affinity for ice was unnerving, and the wyrm, why was it there? Something about that feels significant, but I can’t seem to place it.”

Kirston strafed off slowly to the side, eyes closed.

“His voice too, he was Gilnean. But, the Greymane Wall keeps them separated from the world. Did Scourge forces breach the wall during the war? I have heard nothing of it, but they interact with no one else, it’s possible that they have been attacked.” He paused. “And his form; the worgen curse. Worgens are fairly troublesome in Silverpine Forest, and if the Scourge got in, perhaps they did so as well.”

He opened his eyes again, gazing up at the softly luminescent moons in the sky above.

“The fate of Gilneas is unknown, and that in of itself is concerning. I don’t know for sure, but perhaps the death knight could provide us with an answer.”

“Wait, you want to go talk to him right now? After he almost killed us?” Phillip huffed, his voice raising. “Can’t we at least do this tomorrow, after we’ve had some food and rest?”

“If we wait until tomorrow, he’ll be long gone. Frost wyrms aren’t like normal mounts; they don’t get tired, they don’t need to rest. If we lose him now, we’ll be hard pressed to find him again.” 

Kirston pointed in the direction the dragon had flown over the trees. “We know the general direction of where he’s gone. If we retrieve our horses quickly, we should be able to pick up his trail.”

Yuirari slid off the log, its bark tugging at her leather pants as she departed. She strode off past them to Sasha, scooping up her saddle on the way there. 

While the elf began to harness her mount, Phillip shifted the warhammer on his back, grabbing at the hilt near his neck.

“Do you think we’ll have to fight him again? I’ll be ready for him this time.”

Kirston rounded on his apprentice, his lips set into a hard line.

“No, we won’t be fighting him. Because you will be staying here at the inn until we come back.”

“What? What do you mean I’m staying here, no way! You need my help!”

“What I need from you right now, is to stay out of the way. You’ve already painted yourself in a bad light tonight, especially in the knight’s eyes, and having you around when we confront him again is only going to set things off on the wrong foot. Yuri and I will go find the horses. We’ll bring Tess back here, but you _will_ be staying put until our return.” Kirston crossed his arms with finality, his stance unbending. 

Phillip sputtered, at a loss for words, his face irate and crestfallen. He clenched his fists angrily, huffing and turning his back to his teacher, before stalking away towards the illuminated tavern to sulk.

Kirston let out a hard exhale, before turning on his heel to follow the elven hunter.

“Alright, Sasha’s all set and ready to ride. Just let her smell the reins and we’ll find those horses, no problem.” Yuirari tossed over her shoulder towards him. 

Sasha was making a deep purring sound, and was rubbing her large furry head against Yuirari’s arms and chest, almost knocking the elf over; stopping only when Kirston approached, the mangled leather reins dangling from his hands. 

He held them out to her, and she happily pushed her soft pink nose against them, snuffling deeply. After a moment she righted herself, and swiveled in the direction the death knight had previously indicated before leaving. East. 

Yuirari attached her supply bag to the saddle, then climbed onto Sasha’s back, hooking her feet through the saddle’s stirrups. 

She leaned towards Kirston, holding out her hand. He looked back at her hesitantly. She rolled her silver eyes in response.

“You’ll be fine, the seat is big enough for two people. Just hang on to me so you don’t fall off.” 

Kirston nodded and she helped him climb onto the great cat’s back. He wrapped his arms around her waist, awkwardly, and glanced down towards the ground. Saber cats were tall, nearly as tall as a horse, and not being in control of the reins made him uneasy. 

Yuirari patted Sasha’s head, her pale eyes lighting up in excitement.

“Come on girl, let’s ride!” She called out into the night.

Sasha chuffed with pleasure and bounded forward, quickly vanishing into the trees. 

Phillip watched them leave from over his shoulder, before growling and making his way angrily towards the inn. 

He dragged his feet in the dirt as he walked, kicking at the occasional rock he met along the way; sending them skittering down the road. Grumbling half words and grunts burbled out of his mouth, as he pulled at the corners of his cloak in frustration. His teacher didn’t trust him with anything apparently! 

Phillip huffed, knowing he was acting like a child, but he didn’t care. 

Eventually Phillip came to a stop at the entrance to the building, listening to the hearty laughter emanating from within. 

He could see figures dancing around, mugs in hand, through the frosted windows, oblivious to his emotional plight. He couldn’t bear the thought of going back inside to that revelry, going to brood in a corner, like that death knight.

Phillip growled, gritting his teeth. That _death knight._

Rebellious feelings surged up inside of him.

If he found that worgen first, he’d get his attention, show him what for, and maybe even do Kirston’s job for him! _He_ was a paladin too, damnit, and he’d have the Light to protect him just the same! He just needed a chance to prepare earlier. He wasn’t ready before, but he definitely was now! 

Phillip looked back up the road the two paladins had traveled together down earlier. There was a big town that way, and he was certain that was where the death knight had been headed. And, even if he wasn’t there, there was no way that he had gone by the place unnoticed, not riding a monstrosity that size. 

Phillip hefted his hammer again, grabbing the handle to steel himself. He could easily reach the place by foot, he was confident of it.

The apprentice grinned, turning on his heel away from the inn, and started his march up the road he had traversed earlier.

\----

The nighttime air was mostly quiet, with the exception of his heavy plate boots which thudded loudly against the earth, and left deep depressions wherever he walked. Phillip groaned, exhaustion tugging at his limbs.

He was _definitely_ regretting this decision. He had been riding on horseback all day, and had no food in his stomach to help keep him going. The thought of the warm meat and mead he could have been enjoying right now -if he had just done as he’d been told- gnawed at his gut. 

Phillip stopped, his lungs heaving with effort. A large cluster of boulders were hunched nearby, and he stiffly made his way to the most sunken one. 

Pulling himself up onto it with a heavy grunt, he let the rock take the weight of his equipment and sighed. After a few minutes of catching his breath, heart pounding, he pulled a small cloth from the bags on his belt and wiped the sweat from his face.

He turned his head in the direction he had come from, letting out a hard breath, and then looked further up the road to his destination. 

The faintly flickering lights from the town were very close now, although it had gotten significantly darker since he’d started walking, and stars were now fully visible in the sky.

He was almost there, but was in absolutely no shape to be squaring up to that death knight now.

A deep sigh left his lips as he considered his options. Either he’d finish his slog and make it to town, where he would then swiftly find the closest inn to fill his belly, or he could turn back and do the same. But, it was likely to take longer at this point to turn around and retrace his steps, than it would be to just complete the walk.

Another heavy sigh.

_Kirston is going to be furious. ‘Just go find and the death knight, you can handle him!’ Tch, what a brilliant plan._

Phillip carefully eased himself off of the rock, his hammer and plate scraping loudly against the stone, and grumbling when the weight of his armor settled itself back onto his feet. He steadied himself, trying to pace his breathing, and started off towards his destination, boots clomping.

He had only managed to trudge a few feet away, when the abrupt sound of snapping branches caught his attention. 

Phillip spun towards the disturbance, grabbing for his hammer, when suddenly pain erupted from the side of his head, making his vision flash with bright points of red and yellow. 

He recoiled from the impact and was sent rolling across the ground, roaring in pain. He tried to focus, tried to stand up, to fight back, but his head was spinning with fatigue. Phillip yowled as a sharp kick was delivered to the front of his legs, sending waves of agony racing up his spine.

Several pairs of hands grabbed him, restraining his arms, and then binding them with what felt like heavy metal cuffs. Phillip strained against his bonds, trying to escape, but his attackers harshly shoved him into the dirt, pinning him down like a wild animal. 

The sound of leather boots crunching on dirt, followed by a heavy scrape, filled his ears as one of his assailants bent down to pick up Phillip’s fallen weapon. They patted the metal head for a moment, inspecting it.

“Nice war hammer you got there, bub. Excellently crafted. I think I’ll keep it, it’ll make a nice gift for the bossman.” One attacker spoke casually. The gruff voice sounded male. 

Phillip tried to snarl something back, but another person shoved his head pointedly into the ground, stifling him.

“Shadd’ap! Be lucky that you’re still breathing! I could have decided to stick a sword in between your ribs, instead of being so friendly!” A new, harsher voice hissed. A hard jab to one of the pieces of his overlapping armor accentuated his point.

“Now now, lads, we can be civil about this. He might be more talkative later.” Another attacker soothed.

“Hmph. We oughta beat what we want out of him right now!” The second growled back. The soothing voice tutted in response.

The rhythmic trotting of hooves approached him, along with the creaking sound of wooden wheels. Phillip tried to twist his head to get any kind of vision on what was happening, but any movement he tried was quickly thwarted.

“Get him prepared if you would please, gentlemen, we don’t want to keep the inquisitor waiting” The regal voice commanded.

Several pairs of hands hauled him to his knees. He caught a brief glimpse of his attackers, of blackened clothing, before one of them swiftly pulled a cloth damp with crushed herbs from their belt, and forced it over his nose and mouth.

Phillip gagged as the thick aroma it contained poured into his nostrils, making his tongue tingle with a fuzzy sensation. His senses suddenly dulled over, as if he was underwater, and his thoughts turned groggy and slow. He could barely hear, much less comprehend what was happening anymore. 

His attackers said something, their words garbled and spoken like nonsense, and swiftly after he felt himself being hauled onto some kind of hard flat object.

Phillip clawed desperately at his mind, trying to fight his way to clarity. Perhaps if he fought hard enough, maybe the Light would answer his call. But as his body was pulled forward against his will, all he received in answer to his despair, was silence.

His brown eyes stared weakly up as the sky rolled past, played out before him like the world was spinning. The star peppered sky was blurry, and soon the shapes of tree branches began to block them out, stealing them away.

Phillip’s mind flickered feebly to what drew him out here in the first place. He had screwed up, yet again. No doubt he’d get the tongue lashing of a lifetime, and he’d never be trusted with anything, ever again. That is, if he even survived this to see his teacher once more.

_Kirston is going to be furious._

Eventually his thoughts slipped away, and he felt himself follow them into darkness.

\----

The warhorses hadn’t been too hard to find. Sasha’s powerful nose had led straight to them, and they weren’t exactly well camouflaged, given the bright silver armor they were still wearing. 

They had been casually drinking water from a nearby stream, and only panicked slightly when the giant carnivorous cat emerged at them from the dark. 

A few soothing words from Yuirari had done the trick, and now they were being quickly led back to the inn; Kirston’s horse in the lead, with Phillip’s following behind. The two of them had been safely tied together with spare rope from Yuirari’s supplies.

One horse was dark brown with equally dark eyes, while the other sported grey and white spots with pale brown eyes. Kirston had told her that the grey one was Phillip’s, and was named Tess. While the brown one was Kirston’s, and was named Gavin. 

On the ride back, Kirston told her the tale of their acquisition of the horses. Apparently, both of the animals were descendants of the same sire, yet had been acquired by the Argent Crusade at different times. 

They were extremely stout warhorses, on par with some of the strongest of dwarven rams. In a way, the animals mirrored their riders. Yuirari had resisted the urge to compare them out loud. She wasn’t sure the paladin would appreciate it.

Then Yuirari, in turn, spoke of how she had raised Sasha from kitten to adulthood, and some of the trials and tribulations of that process. Apparently, Sasha had been very eager to steal objects from her neighbor’s home. Repeatedly.

Before too long, the inn came into view, its lights just as bright as they had been before. Dwarves never seemed to rest.

Kirston patted Gavin’s neck, and the animal slowed to a halt. A quick survey of the area revealed no sign of Phillip’s presence. 

Shrugging, Kirston realized that he was probably inside the building, and headed in to check for him. 

The inn was still just as full and as loud as it had been when they left. Kirston scanned the room, but could not distinguish the features of his apprentice’s armor from the crowd. 

He cast a quick glance towards the corner where the worgen had been seated before, the table and seats now occupied by other relaxing patrons. 

The red-headed dwarven innkeep approached, and greeted him warmly with a bow.

“Ah, welcome back, sir! What can I get fer’ ye?” His voice cheery.

“Nothing, thank you. Did you happen to see a younger man in armor come in here? The same one I had with me earlier?” Kirston questioned, his frustration starting to return.

“The lad with the blonde hair?” The dwarf furled his bushy eyebrows.

“That’s the one.”

“Fraid’ not, sir. Last I saw o’ him was when the two o’ you and the elven lass left.” 

A spike of anger shot through Kirstons limbs, and he nodded stiffly at the dwarf. 

“Thanks.” 

Kirston turned and headed back outside, Yuirari’s silver eyes flickering to him as he emerged.

“Any luck?”

“No. He’s not inside. In fact, he had better be walking laps around the stables, or else that boy is going to be in for a world of punishment.” 

Yuirari grimaced and shook her head.

“Well he’s certainly walking alright, but he’s not making laps around here, I can tell you that.” She scoffed.

“What are you -” Kirston started to speak, but Yuirari pointed down at the ground. 

He squinted, looking at what she had indicated, and his frown deepened. Heavy plate footprints were indented into the earth -a single pair- and they trailed off down the road. From the position of the heel, the trail led away from the inn and up the road towards the town he and Phillip had passed through on their way here.

“That Light-forsaken boy! I told him to stay put!” Kirston tightly clenched his fists, fighting back anger. 

He turned and climbed onto his horse’s back, giving them both a command, and sending the bound animals galloping down the road. 

Yuirari whistled and Sasha bolted forwards. 

The elf reached out with a leithe hand to catch her saddle as the cat raced past, and elegantly pulled herself up into the seat.

Her paws thundering, Sasha easily caught up to the hooved animals ahead of her, and the group of them charged together down the road.

\----

As the lights of the town came into view, Yuirari suddenly broke away from the group and turned back, calling out to Kirston to stop as she did so. 

He slowed the animals down, and turned them back around. 

Yuirari had dismounted, and was kneeling by a set of large boulders next to the road. She was tracing something on the ground with one slender finger. She beckoned as Kirston got off his horse and approached.

“Look! Over here, on the ground.” She marked out a distinct heavy footprint. “It matches the ones at the inn. These are Phillip’s. But his trail stops at this boulder.” She pointed at the lowest one, then looked back up at Kirston, her usual playful demeanor absent.

“Phillip walked up this way, obviously.” Kirston commented. Yuirari nodded, and peered down again.

“Yes, but there’s more. There are more than one set of prints here, and they’re all scattered around. These aren’t the tracks of someone walking to or from town as part of their casual day. These prints are of various shapes and depths; different people, different weights, and they’re all very recent.”

Kirston felt his throat tighten as she explained.

“There are also several sets of horse tracks here, but they're not the ones your warhorses have just made.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because, they’re the same as these other impressions. They’re very light tracks, which means that they weren’t wearing any kind of heavy armor.” 

Yuirari pointed to another spot on the ground; a chaotic mess of deep scratches and grooves, half hidden under more recent footprints, and splattered with splotches of a dark liquid.

“There’s also blood. And these scratches here, these are all signs of a struggle.” The paladin’s heart was pounding.

_Light please, no._

The elf slowly rotated, following a deep unbroken line of tracks.

“These here were made by some kind of cart or wagon. From the depth of the print, at one point they weren’t carrying a heavy weight. And at another, they were.” 

Yuirari turned her luminous eyes to meet the terrified green ones of her friend.

“Someone has taken him, Kirston.”

Kirston could feel his blood freeze, as if ice was blooming in his veins. His head spun.

“Are you sure? Are you certain?” Kirston’s words were deeply tinged with panic and horror.

Yuirari nodded grimly.

“Unfortunately, yes. Though, from how little blood was spilt, and how small the area of conflict is, it’s safe to say this was not a fatal struggle.” 

Kirston inhaled sharply, a moment of relief starting to wash over him, before she continued on, and he half choked on his own breath.

“However, I cannot say that the wounds he took while the fight ensured will not be fatal if left untreated. It is impossible for me to tell if any of his bones are broken, or more importantly, if he’s suffering from any kind of internal damage.

Kirston walked past her, limbs shaking, eyes scanning the forest, hoping in vain for any sight of his apprentice. He put a hand on the hilt of his sword, trying to steady himself.

“Where is he now? Can you find him?” He beseeched her, his voice strained.

Yuirari stood up, eyes locked onto the solid cart tracks, and stalked after them towards the treeline, Sasha at her heels. Kirston grabbed the horse’s leads and quickly followed them.

As they traveled in a tense silence, Kirston began to blame himself. 

If he hadn’t yelled at his apprentice, if he hadn’t told him to stay put, this never would have happened. He should have known that the boy would feel resentful, that he might try something stupid and heroic, but he had trusted that his apprentice would know better than to act on those feelings.

He should have been a better teacher.

\----

Eventually they reached a large grove of trees where the grass had grown particularly thick, and Yuirari stopped. She swiveled around to Kirston, her expression dark.

“The trail is lost here. But, if you have something of Phillip’s, Sasha can track him for us.”

Kirston went to Tess and began to search the horse’s saddle for objects. He quickly fished out a pair of woolen gloves and socks. 

Gripping them tightly, he approached Sasha and held them out for her to smell.

She sniffed the material several times, before chuffing and heading off to the other end of the grove; a different direction they had been previously going.

Kirston steadied himself, and the group continued on after her.

\----

They trekked through the forest, following Sasha’s nose, for what seemed like an eternity before they could begin to see an extensive man made clearing ahead through the net of trees, and down a short hill into some kind of massive sunken pit. Incredibly bright light poured out from in between the branches and trunks of the trees that reached up to scrape the sky.

Yuirari and Kirston quickly crouched low to the ground, leaving the animals behind, and made their way forward slowly. Kirston wrapped his cloak around himself, shielding his armor from view as they approached.

As they gained a more clear view of the area, they noticed that it was utterly filled to the brim with tents of various colors and sizes. 

The smallest tents squatted around the largest one in the clearing’s heart, as if sheltering it. The network of structures themselves were surrounded by a thickly fortified barricade of logs and stone, and the rest of the clearing was harshly lit by bonfires and torches in every possible corner; ensuring that they would banish every last shadow from their presence.

Figures could be seen swarming inside the encampment through the gaps in the outer walls that substituted as makeshift doors, as well as from their elevated view.

Kirston frowned. This did not look dwarven.

_And it rules out bandits too. Whoever these people are, they’re incredibly organized._

Kirston squinted against the bright light, gladdened that he had thought to bring his traveling cloak with him.

As his eyes began to adjust, he noticed the clear and stark differences in the color of the structures, as well as their details.

Some were dark brown and red, and seemed to be worn and patchwork. Those of the less appealing variety, tended to be toward the outer ring of the barracks. A few of them had smoke rising from areas nearby. 

_Either cooking tents, or blacksmithing tents, if he had to guess._

Meanwhile the majority of the others were very clean and militaristic, their colors a brilliant intense white, with almost all of them bearing thick red stripes, and trimmed in shimmering gold. 

The largest tent in the network’s heart shared those traits, but also had a bold red flame symbol that dominated the front face of the tent. 

The image stared defiantly up at the two hidden lurkers on the ridge.

Kirston recognized the emblem instantly, and from the low hiss that emerged from Yuirari, it was apparent she did as well.

_The Scarlet Crusade._

Kirston gritted his teeth as he attempted to contain his boiling fury. 

Those Scarlet bastards had taken his apprentice! But for what purpose? He didn’t want to think about why, the possible answers terrified him. All he knew was that he was going to get Phillip back. 

Kirston’s green eyes shifted over the entirety of the Scarlet camp, searching for ways in and out. 

He grimaced, digging his fingers into his cloak.

Even if they managed to slip past the outer perimeter, they still needed to find Phillip first, and there was nowhere to hide there; they had obviously made sure of that. And they were clearly outnumbered by a significant margin.

A low growl bubbled in Kirston’s throat.

No matter which way he looked at it, there were just far too many for the two of them to fight on their own.

Yuirari shuffled closer to Kirston, her voice a whisper.

“Tell me you’ve got a plan, because I’m drawing up a blank here.”

“Just one, but it might be a long shot.” His voice was tight with focus.

“And that long shot is..?”

Kirston took a deep breath. It was time for a rogue’s gambit.

“We need to go find that death knight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to state right now that Phillip is an absolute idiot dumbass moron.


	3. Aggression and Acquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phillip finds himself in dangerous hands, an unexpected ally is made, and the hunters become the hunted.

Phillip began to awaken and stir, his senses still swirling in a dull clouded haze. His head was pounding like a war drum, and pins and needles danced up and down his back. He remembered being attacked and dragged away by men with angry voices, but everything after that was a blur. He didn’t have the slightest idea where he was, or how much time had passed.

The paladin gently shook his head, trying to clear it, but all the movement did was make him dizzy. 

His ears were swiftly assailed by a cacophony of sound: men talking loudly, shouting, with metal objects being clanged together. It was a horrendous, shrill din, and he desperately wished it would all just stop, even for a moment. 

Phillip groaned and tried to force his eyes to open, but quickly closed them again when brilliant light assaulted his vision, making his eyes burn and water with stress. Wherever he was, it was incredibly bright.

_Daytime maybe? Is that the sun?_

Phillip attempted to move, but his arms had been tightly bound backwards, behind a solid upright object. He tried to fall off to the left, and then the right, but was unable to make any headway. He grunted, frustrated.

_I’m tied to a chair. Great._

“Well, well, well. Look who’s finally awake at last!” A sharp male voice cut through his thoughts with a piercing clarity. “I was wondering when you’d venture out of dream land.” The speaker’s pitch was high and warbled slightly at the end of each word.

Phillip strained, prying his eyes open again to behold the speaker. 

They were a tall human male with bronzed skin and dark brown eyes, with a deep crimson hood draped over the head. He was wearing an immaculate white and red tunic over a black pair of pants. 

The man was standing with his back to the restrained paladin, leering at his prisoner from over his shoulder, his hands planted on a thick wooden table in front of him. Resting on top of the table were lit candles, scattered and stacked papers, and metal trays with several objects resting in them that Phillip couldn’t quite see. Leaning against the table was his warhammer, making Phillip grit his teeth in irritation.

The rest of the room was that of a massive tent’s interior, its peak rising high above him. Flames flickered wildly in nearby braisers staked into the ground, and a smaller container filled with red glowing coals lurked nearby. 

The bronze man pulled away from whatever he had been working on, and turned around to face Phillip fully, letting the boy get a better look at him. From his belt hung a tightly coiled, braided cord, that he was sure wasn’t rope. His tunic sported a bold red flame symbol, bordered with gold trim. 

The emblem on the man’s chest rang several bells in his mind, and Phillip racked his brain trying to think of where he had seen it before. Things were still cloudy, and he was having a difficult time focusing. 

The man smiled thinly, his eyes predatory.

“You still seem a bit out of sorts. It appears my men gave you far too concentrated a dosage of Bruiseweed, my apologies. But, you look exhausted, so perhaps the extra rest was good for you, no?” He chuckled darkly. “Don’t worry, the effects should wear off soon.”

He strode over to the corner of the tent, grabbing a stool that had been resting there, and dragged it forward to a spot in front of Phillip, with an unpleasant scratching noise that drove spikes into Phillip’s ears.

“I am Inquisitor Quince.” He assuaged, his free hand on his chest. The man casually relaxed into the seat, leaning forward to look Phillip in the eyes.

“Let us have a talk, you and I.” He purred.

Phillip half stared back, his heart starting to pound. He felt like a rabbit pinned beneath the arrows of this man’s gaze. His glare was absolutely withering, and it made his skin crawl. As if Quince could hear Phillip’s distress, he grinned and reached out to pat the boy’s cheek.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep the questions simple.” He soothed, leaning back away and putting a leg up to rest on his other. Quince examined his nails for a long moment which, like his tunic, were pristine, before giving Phillip a coy side eye.

“So, what is a paladin of our sister Crusade doing all the way out here?”

“Sister Crusade?” Phillip’s mind chimed with bells again, the answer trying to claw its way out of the herb-induced fog.

The man’s lips curled into a wry smile, and he carefully placed his fingertips together in front of him, lifting his chin.

“Surely you know where you are, know who we are? Hmm?” His tone was pompous. Quince tapped the side of his head with a finger.

“Think carefully now. The answer is all around you.”

Phillip’s eyes flickered between the man in front of him, to the fires licking the sides of the tent with light, then over to the coals, and then the table. The meaning of the emblem on his chest was driving him mad. He wrestled furiously with his mind, trying to capture the elusive solution. It was like trying to corner a wild fox.

_Think damn you, think!_

In a sudden burst of clarity, his stupor faded, and the answer struck him like lightning. His brown eyes whipped back to meet the man’s arrogant face.

“The Scarlet Crusade.” Phillip whispered. Quince’s eyes lit up, and he clapped condescendingly.

“Very good! Now, as I’ve asked you before, what’s one of our sister order’s members doing all the way out here?” He cooed.

Phillip frowned defiantly.

“I could ask you the very same thing. The Crusade has only ever had a presence in the Plaguelands and Tirisfal. What are _you_ doing here in Dun Morogh?”

The inquisitor’s smile tightened, his eyes narrowing.

“Why, continuing our great work of course! The undead must be purged from this world, surely even you agree with that. We will hunt them, no matter where they may try to hide, even if that means following them into these wretched mountains.”

Quince lazily toyed with his fingernails again, letting a weighty length of silence stretch out between them.

“So, my friend, have you encountered any undead here lately?”

“There are no undead in Dun Morogh.” Phillip spat back at him.

A dark chuckle emanated out of Quince’s chest, sending unease rippling down Phillip’s spine.

“Oh now now, you and I both know _that’s_ not true.” Phillip’s gut churned as the inquisitor’s eyes darkened dangerously.

“A paladin of the Argent Crusade in the very same area where we’ve been searching for a creature of interest to us? There are no coincidences in this world, my boy.” The inquisitor continued. Quince leered at Phillip for a long moment, before clicking his tongue and letting his posture relax.

“Now listen to me. We don’t have to be enemies. You are a fellow human of the Light, a paladin. Someone like you could do wonders here, you know. Glory awaits all those who would help us to purge the Scourge filth from this world.” His brown eyes bored into Phillip, as if peering into his soul. “Surely, you want to keep Azeroth safe, no?”

Revulsion and disgust roiled inside of Phillip like a boiling storm, and he couldn’t stop those feelings from spilling out into words.

“Keeping Azeroth safe? What a joke! All you people do is burn and purge, and you don’t care who you hurt in the process! You’d sooner kill someone for just having a ghoul look at them, let alone actually help anyone affected by the Scourge!” Phillip’s hissing words echoed around the sparsely decorated tent.

Quince’s visage darkened, all of his amicable emotion fading, as if a mask had fallen away from his face. He stood up slowly, his eyes half lidded and treacherous. Phillip’s pupils shrank, feeling his blood run cold. He felt like he had just crossed a very fine line. The inquisitor prowled forward and gripped Phillip’s chin, forcibly turning his head up to look at him, his fingers piercing into his flesh like talons.

“You have worn my patience thin, boy. Where is the wielder of frost and darkness? Where is the _death knight_?”

Phillip strained against the man’s hold, feeling the tips of his fingers digging alarmingly into the soft flesh under the jawbone. He growled in defiance, trying to ignore the pain.

There was no way in hell he was telling this man _anything_. Phillip had no love for that death knight, but he certainly wasn’t about to let this inquisitor know which way he had gone, or that he’d passed by a nearby civilian town. These Scarlet psychopaths would murder every last person living there for just catching a mere glimpse of him.

When Phillip was not forthcoming with information, Quince steadily tightened his grip -his sharp nails drawing blood- until the paladin let out a cry of agony. Phillip gritted his teeth harder, refusing to speak, even as tears pooled at the corners of his eyes.

_You are not going to break me!_

Just when the torment was becoming unbearable, Quince thankfully released his vice like hold, and swiftly turned on his heel to stride away from his prisoner.

Phillip let his mouth hang open, fiery lines of pain lancing up through his teeth and into his neck. His skin was already turning a deep purple around the affected area, flecked with tiny pearls of crimson. He was breathing hard, and sweat was beading on his forehead.

Quince approached the table and started fishing around in the trays for something, before holding up a long curved silver knife to inspect it. He turned the blade over slowly in his hands, until it caught the light, the edge glimmering brightly like a shard of crystal. 

His dark eyes flickered to Phillip as he lifted the instrument. He wanted him to see what he was holding, wanted him to understand what it meant. Phillip inhaled deeply, fighting back panic.

“You have obviously been tainted by the Scourge. But as a man of the Light, I believe you can be saved. We will purge that contamination within you, and guide you unto a new dawn.” Quince cooed, his voice both gentle and mad.

Phillip watched him, his eyes wild, but no retort came.

The inquisitor placed the knife pointedly back down into the tray, and clasped his hands behind his back as he made for the tent’s entrance. Pushing aside the flaps, he leaned out and made a few hand gestures. Two silhouettes stationed outside responded immediately, and approached.

Two large men walked in, their exposed muscles plainly being put on display. They wore red half robes, with matching sashes around their waists and tied round their foreheads.

Quince gestured with a hand towards Phillip, and they followed his silent command.

“Please prepare our guest for redemption. He is strong willed, and will not accept the Light’s grace easily. Push him to the brink, if you wouldn’t mind. We must break him before we can build him back up.” He instructed, before stalking out of the tent.

The two scarlet monks approached him, faces dark as they cracked their knuckles purposefully. Phillip clenched his aching jaw, and braced himself for what he knew would surely come next.

\----

The duo stealthily left the edge of the clearing, and headed back towards where they had left Sasha and the horses. Kirston untied them, and they quickly retraced their footsteps back out of the woods.

A small snowstorm had started to whip itself up, and Kirston swiftly dug out one of the blankets from his saddle, handing it over to Yuirari -who took the offering gratefully- while he pulled his own cloak up over his nose and mouth. As they returned to the site of the attack, Kirston felt like a shard of ice had been stabbed into his heart.

_This all could have been avoided if I had just done better._

The group turned determinedly away from the boulder cluster, and headed up the road towards town, their clothes tousled back and forth by the chilling wind. 

Yuirari was convinced that the death knight was there, or at the very least had passed by it.  
She was riding on the theory that the only reason Phillip had come this way, was because he knew that the death knight had done the same. Yuirari had insisted confidently that she’d be able to track the knight herself, even in such conditions, and so Kirston let her take the lead in their hunt.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the large cluster of nestled buildings, where the snow was beginning to pile up along the windows and doors of the various structures. 

Some towered up out of the ground, with thin trails of smoke curling up out of their chimneys. Others were large domes, like bunkers. All of them had thick square windows; although some were open to the nighttime air, while others were shuttered. There were even a few carts that had been pulled up alongside their owner’s homes, their shops closed till’ morn.

The town was quiet and the majority of the lights within had already been put out for the night. However, a few fires flickered faintly from dying braziers along the road, or from the occasional bobbing lantern from the patrolling mountaineers. 

Kirston advised that it would be best to avoid the guards. Getting their attention at this hour, while in a hurry, was not something he wanted to add to his ever growing list of problems today.

The darkness had already deepened to a point far beyond a human’s normal ability to see, and even with the pale light of the moon above, the swirling snowflakes were hampering any advantage it might have given him. Kirston was struggling to make out much of anything. 

Yuirari had to lead him around obstacles that got in the way, like rocks or ditches, making him feel like useless dead weight. He grumbled quietly to himself, while she searched for anything the frost wyrm might have disturbed by passing overhead.

Guilt gnawed at his gut. Phillip was probably suffering at the hands of the Scarlets, and here he was, wandering around _more_ than half blind! He growled and clenched his fists futility.

“Argh, damnit! What if he’s not here, Yuri? What if he’s halfway to Arathi by now?”

Yuirari pulled Sasha to a stop, while Kirston continued forward sightlessly.

“This is all my fault Yuri, if I had just-”

Yuirari suddenly reached out to grab him, cutting off his rant. Kirston turned back to her, barely able to discern anything else but her glowing silver eyes in the dark.

“Look over there” She pointed past him, and he squinted to see where she was indicating. Yuirari physically grabbed his hand, her thin fingers wrapping around his wrist as she directed him.

“Over _here_ , Kirston.” She huffed.

“Just lead the way, Yuri.” He shot back.

The elf puffed out her cheeks, before urging Sasha past him, the paladin keeping the horses close behind her darkened form.

As they left the borders of the town, and ventured off the road deeper into the trees, Kirston began to make out a faint blue glow peeking out from behind a thick cluster of trunks. It was barely visible to him, even as they approached. The trees there were dense, and the snowstorm was only providing additional cover.

_This is very well hidden. He’s smart._

Kirston dismounted as they got closer, bringing the horses to a nearby tree and tying them to it. 

Yuirari followed his lead by bringing Sasha over as well, who promptly brushed herself up against the horses to stay warm. They whinnied and snorted softly in concern, but Yuirari gave them a few gentle words to ease their fear, before falling in step with Kirston.

They gave each other a terse nod, before entering the grove side by side.

\----

The first thing they saw was the commanding figure of the frost wyrm. 

It was laying on the ground, though it was not asleep, nor frankly, did he think it had the capacity to do so. Its head was up and alert, though it did not appear to be looking in their direction. 

One of its neck vertebrae emanated a concentrated blue glow, while its others did not. Somehow, that felt significant, though Kirston could not think of why. Its tail was curled defensively around a smaller figure, which appeared to be unconscious. 

_The death knight. It has to be._

Kirston began to advance stealthily, and the dragon reacted immediately to his presence, whipping its head around to face them and opening its jaws, rumbling. 

It started to rise up to meet them, its wings unfurling, but suddenly stopped.

The death knight on the ground stirred, and after a moment stood up, but did not reach for his nearby sheathed runeblade. His glowing eyes fixated on them and he let out a low growl.

“You two again. Pests. Why are you bothering me?” His dark Gilnean accent reverberated angrily.

“We need your help, our friend was taken by-” Yuirari started to speak.

“I don’t care.” The worgen brutally cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Please, it’s the Scarlet Crusade. They’ve taken my student captive!” Kirston stepped in, his voice coming off more pleading then he had anticipated it to be.

The wyrm tilted its head slightly, listening.

“Oh the Scarlet Crusade, huh? Let me think about it… No. I still don’t care.” The knight bared his long teeth in agitation. “Your apprentice doesn’t appear to be very bright about who he decides to pick his fights with.” The worgen shrugged lazily with a grim smile, his eyes closing. “Maybe your next one will be more intelligent.”

Kirston clenched his fists, green eyes flashing, as he tried to maintain his composure. Letting this anger loose would not help him here. He had been expecting resistance on their request for help -as death knights are often stripped of their emotions when they are created- but he hadn’t been prepared for how absolutely _uncaring_ the knight was.

“Phillip did not willingly start a fight with the Crusade, they kidnapped him! You must know that they’re completely insane, please, they’ll kill him!” Kirston implored, trying to appeal to any shred of humanity the worgen might still have left.

The frost wyrm shifted its front claws, as if it was uncomfortable, and turned its skull to look directly at Kirston. The worgen let out a fierce sudden growl, his arms crossing defensively.

“I seem to recall that _he_ was the one who attacked _my_ dragon first.” The knight snarled, lifting his chin challengingly.

“And I stopped him before he could make the mistake of hurting your dragon!” Kirston retorted.

“What makes you think that- ” The knight began to speak, eyes narrowed and lifting a claw to jab at them, when suddenly the wyrm turned its skull to look at him, and he whipped around to lock eyes with it in return, falling silent. The both of them went completely still. 

_What is all of this?_

Kirston glanced at Yuirari, who shrugged back at him, just as equally confused. She cautiously walked a little closer to the pair and cleared her throat.

“Um, hello?” Silence, and still no movement of any kind. 

Yuirari strode closer and waved her hand in front of the worgen’s face, while Kirston approached and examined them both at close range. He had never seen this sort of behavior from the Scourge before, much less from a death knight.

“Odd, it’s like they’re in some sort of trance.” Kirston mused, looking them up and down.

Kirston reached out and tapped one of the knight's shoulder plates with an armored finger. There was the scraping sound of metal against metal, but it sounded hollow and seemed to echo. As if the material itself was somehow cavernous or had more depth than it was supposed to.

Unusual blue gems adorned the worgen’s armor; along the chest, shoulders and belt. The stones appeared to glow and swirl, as if they contained miniature snowstorms. 

_All of this strange material they use. The Scourge really are eccentric._

Kirston abruptly became aware of an intense chill biting his exposed skin. He spotted ice starting to form on his armor, and he backed away from the immobilized death knight.

“Yuri, he has some kind of frost aura emanating from him. Don’t stay near him too long.” He warned, before moving away to inspect the frost wyrm. He wanted to get a better look at that one particular vertebrae he’d observed before.

As Kirston approached, he quickly began to realize why it had stood out. The prominent bone was twisted and shattered. Fragments of ossein drifted around it, hovering freely, yet bound in place by the dense blue energy surrounding it. Upon closer inspection, the rest of the wyrm’s bones were in fairly good condition, with very little noticeable battle damage.

_Whoever this dragon was, they must have died a very sudden death._

As he observed the dragon, he noticed a small green glow originating from out of the wyrm’s ribcage.

_That’s… different._

Kirston advanced, intensely curious with his discovery.

Drifting in between its ribs was a luminous soft green orb. White tendrils coiled off of it, like the roots of a plant, the strands gently brushing against any of the bones within reach. Kirston was fascinated by the object. He had never seen anything like it before. The compulsion to touch it tugged at a corner of his mind, but he resisted.

At the same time Kirston was investigating, Yuirari had moved in to inspect the worgen at close range. The invisible aura around him clawed hungrily at her skin, but she did her best to ignore it. 

The worgen’s coat was a dark cobalt color, and glittered slightly with frost at the edges of the fur. Despite the ice, it still seemed fluffy. Yuirari wondered if it was still soft, and reached out a hand to touch the mane on his neck, her lips curling mischievously.

As Kirston started to turn around to look for Yuirari, the wyrm suddenly reactivated -the green orb in its chest evaporating- and one of its clawed hands came slamming down onto the paladin, pinning him forcefully to the ground.

In that same instant, the death knight whipped his head around towards Kirston, his teeth fully bared. He had drawn his runeblade, and was holding it mere inches from Kirston’s throat.

“Don't get any ideas, _paladin_!” The worgen’s eyes were murderous, his white pupils the size of pinpricks. 

His gaze swung around to Yuirari, jabbing at her with a claw. “And _you_! Keep your hands to yourself!”

Yuirari glared at the worgen, offended, before grabbing her own bow, and quickly nocking an arrow.

“Let go of Kirston, _now_.” She warned him, her stance firm.

The worgen snarled, eyes narrowing.

“You are in absolutely no position to demand _anything_ from me.” He hissed back. The two of them faced off with one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

A terse moment whisked by, before the frost wyrm’s tail abruptly came swinging around towards them, and Yuirari dropped and rolled backwards to avoid the attack. When she came to a stop on one knee and looked back, she realized, surprised, that it had not actually been an attack at all.

The frost wyrm’s tail was now hovering in between the worgen and where she had been previously standing, acting as a barrier between the two, and the death knight himself looked absolutely insulted. He whirled around to lock eyes with the wyrm’s glowing blue sockets, lifting his sword up away from the trapped paladin.

“No. _No_. You are _not_ serious.” His echoing voice was filled with astonishment, his free hand wide open, palm up.

The wyrm emitted a low rumble, and then lifted its claw to release Kirston. The death knight’s eyes flickered to the human prone on the ground for an instant, then immediately back up to the dragon.

“You’re not _serious_!

Yuirari grinned, her fangs peeking out from behind her lips, as Kirston stood up and backed cautiously away from the two undead.

“What’s the matter, wolf boy? Having a little bit of mount trouble?” She teased, lowering her weapon.

“More like I’m being undermined!” He responded back to her without thinking. “And he’s not my mount, he’s my-” He spun around, glaring at the elf, his lips curled down into a snarl.

“Stop badgering me. I’m not interested in your games.” The knight snapped.

The frost wyrm suddenly stretched out its spine and pushed its skull into the frustrated worgen, intentionally trying to knock him over.

His blue eyes flew wide as he flailed his arms, dropping his runeblade in shock, as he tried to regain his balance. For an instant, he was perched on one leg, the other striking out wildly toward the ground, his arms floundering around him frantically.

Yuirari tried her best to hold it in, but ended up bursting out laughing at the display, one hand trying to cover her mouth. She knew how serious things were right now, but she just couldn’t help it; it had been the last thing she had expected to happen! 

The frost wyrm’s rumble pitched up and down, increasing in volume and repetition, but not in a painful manner.

It was _laughing._

The worgen recovered himself, before swiveling back around to face his offender, his face incredulous. The large skull curled around to be at eye level with him, and the knight turned away snorting. He scooped up his fallen weapon and stormed off towards the wyrm’s ribcage, where the saddle was still strapped in place.

“You absolute traitor, I can’t believe this.” He growled loudly as he reached up to adjust some of the bindings.

“Hey! And just where do you think you’re going?” Yuirari scolded, walking around the dragon’s skull to see what he was doing.

“I’m going to rescue your stupid, idiot friend, what does it look like I’m doing?”

Yuirari and Kirston shot flabbergasted looks at each other.

“You're really going to help us?” Kirston wanted an absolute confirmation.

“That’s what I just said!” The death knight shot over his shoulder, tugging harshly on a length of leather. “And it’s not because I want to, so don’t get any more ideas.”

“What do you-” Kirston started to speak, but Yuirari cut him off.

“If you don’t want to, then why the change of heart?” She remarked sassily, hands on her hips.

At her words, the frost wyrm swung its head towards the elf, bringing its skull as close to her as possible. Yuirari flinched backwards, prepared to dodge any possible attacks. The worgen lifted a hand and pointed at the approaching skull.

“Because _he_ likes you. He likes you, and he’s absolutely insistent on helping anyone that falls into that category. And considering he’s my only ride out of these mountains, I don’t really have much of a choice but to go along with his whims.” The knight paused. “Your sob story may have also gotten his attention. Damned fool still has a soft spot for mortals.” He muttered angrily.

Yuirari met the glowing blue sockets of the dragon, and tentatively reached out a violet hand to touch the bridge of its nose. The frost wyrm almost seemed to purr, its hum gentle. The death knight grumbled something about ‘getting attached’ in the background, his words barely audible.

Yuirari grinned, and called out to the grumpy worgen.

“So? What’s his name?”

He muttered again, but when the tone of the dragon rose loudly, as if chiding, he spoke up.

“Blightheart.”

“Blightheart, huh? Was that your idea?” She prodded. The dragon droned flatly in response. The worgen grunted, and started to climb up into the saddle, his earlier adjustments completed.

“I didn’t name him that. Our necromancers did.”

“ _Our_ necromancers? What does that mean?”

“It _means_ that it’s none of your business.” He bared his fangs mockingly at the elf. “That’s all you’re getting out of me.” 

Yuirari puffed out her cheeks, determined. He was going to be a tough one to crack.

Kirston and Yuirari quickly got out of the way as Blightheart advanced out towards the open part of the clearing, his tattered wings beginning to unfurl.

“Alright then, just tell me where the imbecile has been taken. We should be able to see it from above. The bastards won’t know what hit them.”

Kirston chased after him, calling up to the death knight.

“Wait, you can’t approach the encampment by air. We don’t know where exactly he’s being held in there, and you might put him in danger if you just land right on top of them!”

The death knight rolled his eyes, his head tilting back in annoyance. Blightheart growled warningly.

“Very well then. We’ll fly over the town, land in the forest, and walk on foot from there. Satisfied?”

Kirston nodded, appeased, and prepared to backtrack to retrieve the animals. Blightheart was about to take off, when Yuirari also yelled up at the knight perched on his back.

“Hang on, I didn’t catch your name!” 

“I didn’t give it!” He shouted back.

“But you gave us _his!_ ” She retorted, gesturing towards the dragon. Blightheart turned his skull to give his rider a side eye.

A deep heavy sigh escaped from the worgen’s jaws. Yuirari giggled, it was incredibly easy to get under his skin.

“ _Can’t believe this._ It’s Tiasten!”

“What is?” Yuirari teased, eyes crinkling in delight.

“My name!” He hollered, clearly agitated.

Before Yuirari could continue to antagonize the death knight further, Blightheart pointedly launched himself into the air; his claws leaving deep grooves in the snow covered earth.

Yuirari spun on her heels to race out of the grove after Kirston. The sudden departure of the dragon had spooked the horses again, but the two of them were quickly able to get them under control. 

Swiftly remounting, they returned to the road, and followed it back the way they had come until the dark silhouettes of the town came into view. Nimbly skirting along the edges of the dwarven buildings, they reapproached the site of the attack. Yuirari kept an eye on the sky, trying to spot the undead pair in the storm. The duo decided against waiting out in the open for them, coldly buffeted by the wind, and began to retrace their steps into the dense forest.

__

\----

__

They didn’t have to travel long before Yuirari spotted Blightheart’s glow peeking out from the trees ahead. The wyrm was crouched down in a clearing of trees, half natural, and half brute forced when he landed on top of them. Tiasten dismounted and strode silently behind their group, as they led him the rest of the way to the Crusade’s compound.

__

As they walked, Yuirari kept casting glances at the worgen from over her shoulder. 

__

He stalked beyond them, just far enough away to keep his aura from being problematic. The worgen loomed in the dark like a ghastly specter, wicked runeblade in hand, with an expression as cold as the grave.

__

A thought struck her then.

__

_Can death knights eat food?_

__

She knew for certain that other undead -like ghouls and abominations- made a mockery of the action, but now she was genuinely curious about the idea. Especially since death knights were often more intact than the fodder undead that they commanded.

__

_Something to add to the list of things to harass him about later._

__

The bright light of the encampment blazed out of the trees as they approached, the snowstorm still blustering the area around them in a dense flurry.

__

Kirston and Yuirari left their animals behind, as they had before, and after Kirston concealed his armor under his cloak again, they snuck up to the open ridge. Kirston began to draw a rough map in the snow and dirt, as Tiasten prowled up behind them and hunched down low. His eyes fixated intently on the tent network below, and he bared his fangs in disgust.

__

“So, it really is the Scarlet Crusade. I’m surprised any trace of those filthy rats managed to survive Acherus’s onslaught.” He paused, his lips curling into a smile. “Though, I suppose they were just facing freshly trained death knights, who hadn’t quite come into their own power yet.”

__

His claws twitched, and the runes etched into his sword began to illuminate themselves.

__

“That is not the case with _me._ ”

__

Kirston pointed down at the crude map he had drawn, frowning at the worgen’s obvious lethal intent.

__

“All you have to do is lead them away and give them a bit of a run around to buy us some time, so that Yuri and I can sneak in and-”

__

“Lure them away? What, do you think I came here to spend my time playing around as bait? No, no. If I’m helping you, then I’ll do so _my_ way. I’ll slaughter every last one of those zealots.” Tiasten’s voice was as frigid as death.

__

Kirston flinched. He knew what he was calling upon when he had suggested going and finding the death knight in the first place, but he still didn’t want every single person down there to die, even if they _were_ the Crusade.

__

“You don’t need to destroy them all. Just holding them off long enough for us to find my apprentice, and get him out safely is enough.”

__

“Your task will be easy enough, once they’re all dead at my feet.”

__

“This is a rescue mission, not a massacre.” Kirston’s voice was pressing, and from his critical eyes, it was clear that he wasn’t going to budge on the issue.

__

Tiasten’s stance stiffened, glaring with a hard stare into the paladin’s skull for a long moment, before his eyes shifted away back towards the camp. 

__

The worgen let out an irritated snort.

__

“Tch, damn righteous paladins. Fine. If they run from me, then I’ll let them leave with their lives. But if they stand their ground, and you _know_ that they will, then they'll die by my hand.”

__

Kirston swallowed his words. He didn’t like the idea of excessive death, but he had to accept that it would be inevitable here. You could sooner divert a river from its course, then you could redirect the Scarlet Crusade’s single minded intent. They were like another version of the Scourge, in a twisted, ironic way.

__

Yuirari saw the emotion fluctuating across Kirston’s face, and she understood what was going on in his mind. She was no stranger to snuffing out another being’s life, but sometimes kills were just unnecessary. Though, personally, she believed that whatever was going to happen to the Crusade tonight would be well enough deserved. They were known torturers and murderers. This was just a bit of repayment for the suffering they’d caused; not _just_ to Phillip. 

__

Kirston nodded rigidly. This was not the time nor place to debate their different moralities.

__

Tiasten stood up, hefting his forked blade into an aggressive position. The runes etched down the length of the sword flared brightly to life, as if excited by the prospect of approaching bloodshed.

__

“Once the Crusade is focused on me, you can move in and start your search. If these wretches behave as I expect that they will, then every last one of them will come swarming out of those tents to meet me, like enraged wasps from a nest. You should not encounter any resistance.”

__

Before they could respond, the death knight raced forward in rapid strides and an instant later, somewhere in the distance, Blightheart let loose a thunderous roar. Yuirari's hands flew to her ears, clamping them shut as she waited for the unholy sound to cease. 

__

The encampment’s passive scuttling activity suddenly spiked, and the air became suffused with hollars and calls to battle as the men within scrambled to action.

__

\----

__

It didn’t take long for the shouting to be replaced with screams of agony, as Tiasten quickly began his grim work.

__

His runeblade danced through their ranks, its keen edge easily shredding through bone and armor alike, splitting them apart like paper. Tiasten spun in a quick whirl, effortlessly cleaving through several nearby men. Bright ribbons of blood streamed from his blade, not a drop crimson sticking to its unnatural metal. 

__

One man actually managed to clash blades with him, gritting his teeth fiercely, but only for an instant before a quick sword flick wrenched the weapon from the man’s hands. The sword dropped to the ground just before his halves did. Tiasten lunged forward, plunging his blade into someone's chest, before wrenching the sword free and whipping it furiously up towards the legs of another; splitting him from hip to collar-bone. 

__

His opponents began to skitter backwards out of his range, not daring to come closer to attempt strikes of their own. That was fine with him, he had other ways to play this game.

__

With a quick twitch of his hand, Tiasten’s aura flared out in full force. Ice rippled out from him in remorseless waves, wrapping anything it touched in a tomb of deathly frost. He hooked his fingers inwards and pulled his arm back brutally. His sharp movement commanded the ice to shatter, obliterating those trapped within, and sending deadly razor spines flying out towards the others.

__

Shrieks of pain and terror erupted around him as the shrapnel found their marks.

__

Out of the corner of his eye, Tiasten spotted the elf and the paladin sprint past, weaving in and out between the tents, before they vanished into the camp’s heart. He grinned savagely and taunted his foes.

__

“Come on you dogs! Is that the very best the Scarlet Crusade has to offer? You thought you could beat the Lich King, but you can’t even beat _me_?” He let out a burst of insane, devilish laughter, his white pupils as thin as razors. “Pathetic!”

__

Several spearmen rushed forward, bellowing, their faces twisted with fury. Baring his fangs in a savage grin, Tiasten easily parried the first spear to reach him, before reaching out to rip it from the warrior’s grip. He quickly used his new extended range to cleave the metal heads off the remaining incoming spears, before hurling the fractured weapon back into the chest of its owner. The man fell backwards, clutching the air and gasping for breath. 

__

As he leapt away from the blade of another enemy, the death knight felt a faint twinge in the back of his mind, as Blightheart checked in on his progress.

__

_“You have killed many, yet they still believe that they can win. The ants try in vain to slay the spider.”_

__

_“The Crusade are suicidal fools. I will exploit their zealotry, and I will make them suffer for it.”_

__

_“Remember what you told the others. You said that you would allow them to flee if they did so.”_

__

_“I'm well aware of what I said, but they aren’t exactly in the mood for running away, now are they?”_

__

_“Hmm. Then perhaps I can change their minds.”_

__

In his mind, he saw a vision of Blightheart opening his wings briefly, then the image faded away, and he was thrust back into the whirl of combat. Tiasten deflected several strikes and lashed out with his own in return, delivering sharp blows to exposed arms and legs.

__

He felt another image in his mind, and he deftly rolled out of the way as Blightheart soared low over the battlefield, causing the tents to whip and wail in the sudden wind; a torrent of frost erupting from his maw. 

__

The dragon had abruptly entombed a portion of the Crusade that had been caught in the blast, their still visible faces frozen in shock. The sudden loss of ranks from an unexpected aerial attack caused the others to bolt in a state of wild panic. 

__

For an instant, Tiasten’s predatory instincts wanted him to run them down and continue the onslaught, but he remembered his previous agreement. Growling, he resisted the hunger and allowed them to escape into the forest. 

__

With his aura swirling around him in a wild storm, Tiasten pushed deeper into the compound, fighting fewer and fewer foes, as gradually more of the humans began to flee from him in raw terror. 

__

Eventually he reached the main tent uncontested and shoved his way inside.

__

\----

__

Yuirari released her ears and took off running, Kirston in his clanking armor close behind. Though she tried to not focus on it, she couldn’t help but notice the shrieks of agony coming from outside of the camp.

__

Moving quickly, they slipped through one of the makeshift doors in the wall surrounding the base and began to systematically check each tent they encountered. As the death knight had promised, they didn’t meet a single Crusade warrior. Every last one of them had rushed outside to try and fight back the bleak death that clawed at their door. 

__

Many of the tents contained very little items of value. Various sleeping rolls, boxes of food, water canisters; all basic survival equipment. Although she subtly pocketed the occasional tiny sack of coins she managed to find. She needed those far more than their owners would now. 

__

As they approached the primary tent in the camp’s core, Yuirari could hear someone roaring commands from within it. Most of the words were cut short by the piercing screams of Tiasten’s foes, but she managed to catch the word ‘prisoner’.

__

“This way! Someone said something about a prisoner!” Yuirari turned and called out to Kirston, gesturing towards the looming burlap structure.

__

There was a roar from above and the pair instinctively hurled themselves to the ground as Blightheart rocketed over the camp, bringing a harsh wind, and a cascade of snow flurries with him. After the dragon passed, Kirston helped Yuirari to her feet and the two rushed forward, pushing their way into the main tent.

__

Several men were inside. One man wore a red and white hooded tunic, his face enraged, with eyes like a shark. The man held a metal poker in his hands, the tip of the object burning with an angry light. Phillip was restrained in a wooden chair, bound to it by heavy metal links. He was beaten and bruised, his skin splotched purple in visible areas, and a trail of blood oozed thickly out of his nose. His teeth were clenched together, and his brown eyes were both defiant and terrified. Two burly men in deep red half clothing and sashes stood on either side of him, holding the chair in place. The hooded man lifted the iron rod and jabbed it threateningly towards the petrified paladin.

__

“No more chances boy! You will give in to my will, or I will break you!” He hissed venomously.

__

All four looked up suddenly in unison as Kirston and Yuirari entered.

__

“Kirston!” Phillip yelped toward him.

__

“Let him go, _now_!” Kirston bellowed.

__

The two burly men glanced at each other, then released the chair, letting both it and Phillip drop heavily to the floor. They rushed forward, drawing shimmering curved daggers from their belts. 

__

Yuirari reacted with lightning speed. In the blink of an eye, her bow was taut and a heartbeat later the men were on the floor, howling in pain, gleaming white quills protruding from their necks. 

__

Kirston charged towards the hooded man, who violently swung his poker at the paladin, the glowing edge glancing off the neck of his chest plate. Kirston swatted the object from his hand and it fell clattering to the floor, charring a nearby patch of dirt and grass in the process. He slammed into the man, sending him flying backwards into a table. Silver gleaming items plummeted to the ground, and the man desperately scrabbled at the floor, trying to find a weapon as Kirston lunged towards him again.

__

Grasping a small precision knife, the man swiped at Kirston’s face, the crystalline edge of the blade lancing across his cheek; splitting the flesh open like a ripe fruit. Roaring like an enraged bear, Kirston smashed his plated fist into the man’s face, knocking him out cold and breaking his jaw with a jarring _‘crack'_ in the process.

__

Yuirari rushed towards Phillip, and Kirston whipped around to help her stand the chair back up. Immediately she pulled a thin, pointed metal rod from a concealed pouch at her waist, and tried to pick the lock on his restraints. Kirston turned back to search the felled men for keys, without success.

__

“You guys found me!” Phillip’s voice was hoarse and cracked, but evidently happy nonetheless.

__

“I wasn’t about to leave you behind.” Kirston rumbled. 

__

Yuirari growled in frustration as her lock pick failed to work its magic.

__

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here, I just need a little bit of time.” 

__

As she spoke, a chill swamped the room and they suddenly realized that the screams outside had ceased. The death knight pushed the flaps of the tent aside and walked in. Phillip went rigid, his eyes going wide.

__

“It’s the-” He started to say, but Kirston cut him off.

__

“Yes. It is.”

__

After a rapid examination of the room and those inside, Tiasten strode forward, his eyes intent on Phillip’s bonds.

__

“Hold still.” He commanded.

__

“What are you-”

__

Tiasten reached out and grasped the chain binding the young paladin to the chair with long ebon talons. The cold around him accelerated, and the metal began to turn white as it became quickly coated in rime. Tiasten pulled on the now brittle material, and it shattered easily in his grip. 

__

Yuirari glared at Tiasten.

__

“Hey! I just about had that on my own!” She growled.

__

“Too slow.” He huffed back.

__

Kirston helped Phillip stand and offered his shoulder to the boy. He gladly accepted, letting the older paladin take some of his weight. Tiasten’s eyes shifted to the long gash on Kirston’s face.

__

“Looks like you ran into some trouble after all. Nothing you couldn’t handle though, I assume.”

__

“I know some healing spells. I’ll put them to good use after we leave this damn place.” Kirston waved a hand dismissively.

__

Yuirari spotted Phillip’s war hammer laying in the corner, and swooped in to retrieve it. After a momentarily struggle, she hefted it up across her shoulder. Kirston glanced at her, surprised. He forgot that elves were stronger than their lithe figures often suggested. Yuirari turned and murmured quietly to the battered student.

__

“Did they say anything about why they attacked you? What did they want from you, Phillip?” She inquired. 

__

The weary apprentice weakly tilted his chin upwards.

__

“Him.” Phillip replied, his voice exhausted.

__

Yuirari followed his gaze to the hulking grim visage of the worgen. He returned her stare with frigid eyes, the blue irises hard and unfeeling. She frowned back at him.

__

Tiasten looked at the slain monks, blood pooling around their bodies, before turning to the felled form of the hooded man. He was still alive. The knight’s fingers twitched, briefly hovering near the hilt of his sword, before turning away.

__

“Come on. Let’s leave this place, before those fanatical curs get any bright ideas and decide to come back.” 

__

Tiasten escorted them out of the compound, Blightheart following lazily overhead. As they walked, Yuirari did her best to shield Phillip’s face from the heavily gore soaked earth, but she could see the occasional overwhelming look of disgust and horror play across his face.

__

Eventually the group passed beyond the treeline and vanished into the midnight gloom. 

__

\----

__

Night was heavy upon them, veiling the world in a thick cloak of raven feathers. The humans were entirely blind, even with Yuirari guiding them forward. After a snort of annoyance, Yuirari saw Tiasten reach into a miniature pouch at his waist and remove some tiny round objects. 

__

He crushed them in his left hand, and instantly a soft blue fire sprang to life in his palm, suffusing the area around them in a gentle blue light. 

__

Tiasten turned his head slightly towards Yuirari, and for the first time a true smile flitted across his lips, his eyes crinkling in delight. He was obviously very pleased with his little magic trick.

__

“Fire beads.” He stated, before she could ask, and continued forward, taking the place of leader on the march through the woods.

__

\----

__

The return trip was agonizingly slow, and they had to stop frequently so that Kirston and Phillip could rest. The older paladin was hearty, but even he was starting to feel the weight of exhausting tugging at his limbs. And Phillip looked as if he was about to fall asleep at any moment.

__

During their breaks, Kirston would open his rune-etched tome and cast various healing spells on Phillip, his hands glowing with a soft golden light. Waves of relief would wash over Phillip, but still, each step on their march remained painful for him to take.

__

Despite his aid, Kirston's face would harden as he watched his spells take hold. Yuirari knew he was not a fully-fledged healer, and desperately wished that he could do more to help ease his apprentice’s suffering. She also couldn't help but notice that the older paladin paid very little attention to his own wound. She had a feeling that the cut would scar later. It wasn't very long, but the blade had cut deep. 

__

At their next stop, Kirston helped Phillip to rest on a fallen log, and sat down next to him. Phillip leaned into Kirston’s shoulder, his eyes half closed. Kirston sighed, and then pulled a cloth from his belt, wiping his face clean of sweat.

__

Yuirari sat Phillip’s hammer down against the felled tree, rolling her shoulders in relief. She couldn’t imagine how the paladin managed to carry the thing around all day. 

__

As the two humans caught their breath, Yuirari looked up towards the worgen, who was waiting for them to recover from a short distance away.

__

“Hey, you. You never asked for _our_ names, you know.” She taunted teasingly at him.

__

“I _don’t_ -” He started to snarl back, before stopping himself and grumbling.

__

“Fine. Tell me your damn names already.”

__

Yuirari’s eyes lit up impishly, a smile growing across her face.

__

“My name is Yuirari.” She said, putting a hand on her chest. 

__

She turned to put a hand on Phillip’s dazed shoulder.

__

“This here is Phillip. And that over there is Kirston.” Pointing towards her resting friend.

__

Tiasten scoffed, turning his back to them. Yuirari huffed, hands on her hips.

__

_So stubborn!_

__

Kirston tucked the cloth back into his belt and tilted his head towards the death knight.

__

“Well then, Tiasten, since it doesn’t appear that we’re reaching our destination too quickly, how would you feel about answering just a few questions that I have?” His voice was lighthearted, but straightforward. Yuirari briefly thought back to the mission he had been given. 

__

_Now came the difficult part. How to convince this knight to bow to the will of a monarch._

__

Tiasten leaned up against one of the nearby trees, its bark already beginning to ice over under his touch. He stared off into the dark, appearing distracted, his eyes glazing over slightly. The remnants of Blightheart’s wings could be heard beating as he approached their position. 

__

After a few moments, the sound vanished, meaning he had landed somewhere close by. Tiasten twitched and his eyes seemed to clear as he refocused on the mortals nearby.

__

“It doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere just yet. Ask me whatever you like, but don’t expect me to start spilling my darkest secrets.” He mumbled in the general direction of the paladins. 

__

Kirston nodded in understanding and sat up, straightening his back.

__

“Why do you do that? That odd stare?” He gestured to his own eyes as he spoke. Tiasten thought quietly for a while, before deciding to respond.

__

“It’s how I communicate with Blightheart. We can talk to each other with our minds. The longer the conversation, the more focus I require to maintain it. As a result I sometimes forget to control my own body.” He revealed, his frigid voice echoing into the night. 

__

“Who’s Blightheart?” Phillip chirped in softly.

__

“My dragon. You know, the one you tried to smash into splinters back at that little inn?” Tiasten growled. A look of shame swept across Phillip’s face and he fell silent.

__

“Tell me. Why is it that you are here in Dun Morogh?” Kirston probed, his arms crossed.

__

A sly grin of amusement split Tiasten’s face.

__

“Last I checked, I was here helping you rescue your helpless little friend.” He emitted a short dark chuckle before continuing. “But I know what you’re really asking me. Quite frankly, even I do not know why I am here." He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Who knows.” 

__

Kirston frowned, as if annoyed or disappointed by the answer, but continued his questioning anyway.

__

“Where are the other death knights? Why haven’t they been seen around? Meeting one is quite the rare occurrence these days.” 

__

Tiasten stared at him suddenly, his eyes searching the paladin's face. It was obvious the question had caught him off guard, and he was finding it difficult to respond. The stretch of silence between them lengthened uncomfortably, the only sound breaking the stillness around them being the breathing of the living creatures nearby.

__

Eventually, the worgen made an odd motion with his hands, glanced away, shrugged, and looked back to Kirston.

__

“I have no idea where my brethren are. Some may have returned to Acherus, or chose to stay in Northrend. Our kind are not exactly the most sociable of types, even amongst each other.” 

__

Tiasten watched Kirston expectantly as the paladin lowered his head and quietly considered the answers he had received. Again, the silence became unbearable, and Yuirari began to twitch her foot impatiently. Phillip’s eyes slipped softly open and closed, riding the line of sleep.

__

Finally Kirston looked back up, putting his hands together as his green eyes glinted mischievously.

__

“It sounds as if you’re a bit purposeless right now. Perhaps you might be interested in a little job offer?” His voice swiftly acquiring a practiced businesslike tone. 

__

Tiasten lifted an eyebrow but remained silent.

__

“You see, our elven friend here is an ambassador from Darnassus. She has very important matters to discuss with the King and his court. If you help provide an escort, I‘ll see to it that you are rewarded handsomely for your efforts.” 

__

Yuirari gave Kirston a wide-eyed look of shock, but he ignored her, his gaze remaining fixed on the death knight. 

__

Tiasten planted a hand under his chin and grinned, eyes narrowed.

__

“Oh, an _ambassador_? How _interesting_! What is such a noble Priestess of the Moon doing traveling so lightly guarded?” His words were sardonic, clearly not buying the premise he’d been given.

__

Yuirari felt her heart skip a beat. 

__

_Kirston what are you doing? There’s no way he buys that on the spot fabrication!_

__

Kirston was unphased, shrugging casually.

__

“Smaller escorts go by unnoticed. In this way, she is more protected from attackers.”

__

Tiasten examined their faces for any sign of malicious intentions, before casting a stray tendril of thought in Blightheart’s direction.

__

_“What’s your opinion on this?”_

__

_“It’s obvious that they’re lying.”_

__

_“Yes, and they’re doing a terrible job of it too.”_

__

_“Still, I think you should go with them.”_

__

_“What?!”_

__

_“Your heart is still frozen from its time in Northrend. You keep pushing others away. You’re afraid to form attachments again. Their presence will be good for you. Besides, I like the elven woman, she makes me laugh.”_

__

_"You have got to be joking."_

__

_"I am not."_

__

_“You aren’t going to budge on this discussion are you?”_

__

_“No, and you're not going to get very far without me.”_

__

Kirston had noticed the distant look appear again in the worgen’s eyes, mentally noting that he and his dragon must be talking things over. Tiasten blinked, his eyes clearing again, as he rubbed his free hand over his face and let out an annoyed growl. 

__

Standing up, he rolled his eyes and lifted his still glowing palm; holding it off to the side, away from his body as if disgusted by it.

__

“It would appear that I’m going to be sticking with you for a while.” He seemed to chew on his words before spitting them out. “But only until we reach Stormwind, after that I’m done.” 

__

He strode away from where he had been resting, not bothering to wait for a response. Kirston smiled gently as he stalked away, this was a good place to start. 

__

Kirston re-supported Phillip over his shoulder, as Tiasten continued down the path, acting as a living lantern. Yuirari snatched up Phillip’s war hammer and eagerly trotted alongside them.

__

\----

__

Once they reached the horses, Tiasten clenched his open fist, extinguishing the artificial flame that sparked there with an icy hiss.

__

"Phillip is exhausted. We’ll head up to town and find him a room for the night.” Kirston mused, staring down the road. “We could all really use the rest.” 

__

The paladin turned to help his student get into the saddle before doing the same. Yuirari leapt onto Sasha’s back, taking the reins in hand, and the great cat began to rumble and purr in delight of her return.

__

Blightheart silently stalked out of the gloom and Tiasten half jumped, half climbed up into his own saddle, before sheathing his runeblade in a holster on the side. As the frost wyrm approached, his gait unnerving, Yuirari could hear the tinkle of currency clinking against one another coming from the bags on his saddle. Her ears perked up, interested.

__

The death knight opened one of the attached bags and took out a small handful of glittering golden coins. He turned and casually tossed them towards Kirston, who had to shoulder Yuirari to prevent her from intercepting them. The elf huffed in annoyance, tossing her hair.

__

“That should pay for your rooms and food.” Tiasten rumbled lowly.

__

Kirston pocketed the gift and lifted an eyebrow quizzically.

__

“What about you?” He prodded.

__

“I think we’ll sleep out under the stars tonight.” 

__

Kirston gave him a suspicious sideways glance, and Tiasten burst out in a short fit of laughter.

__

“Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.” He gave the vertebrae he was sitting on a quick series of sharp taps with a black claw. “Not like this sack of bones would let me if I wanted to anyways.” He continued on with a growl. 

__

Kirston eyed him, before turning the horses and urging them towards town, Yuirari and Sasha following behind. 

__

The two undead watched the trio ride off down the road, before Blightheart released some short bursts of low rumbling sounds, a noise that could be associated with giggling.

__

_“What are you snickering at?”_

__

_“Look at that, you’re already making friends.”_

__

_“Hmph.”_

__

Blightheart launched off into the air, leaving behind deep claw shaped grooves in the earth and followed after them; his thin silhouette easily melding with, and vanishing into, the darkness.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment from my Beta Reader: "I like how Yuri has known this Death Knight for all of five minutes and is already pushing every button she can conceivably find"
> 
> Oh yeah boy, Kirston doesn't react to her that much anymore. This is NEW BLOOD.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh this is the first time I've really kind of posted my writing out there for other people to see. Go easy on me, lads :V


End file.
